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CONDUCTED 


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FRANK    P    STOCKTON 


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BY    FRANK    R.    STOCKTON. 


THE   FLOATING   PRINCE   AND   OTHER   FAIRY 

TALES.     Illustrated.    410,  cloth, $2.50  ;  boards,  $1.50 

ROUNDABOUT  RAMBLES  IN  LANDS  OF  FACT 

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TALES     OUT     OF     SCHOOL.     300    illustrations. 

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THE  TING-A-LING  TALES.     Illustr.ated  by  K.  B. 

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THE    STORY    OF    VITEAU.       With    16   full-page 

illustrations  by  R.  B.  Birch.     i2mo, 1.50 


PERSONALLY    CONDUCTED 


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X 

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PERSONALLY 


CONDUCTED 


BY 


Frank   R.  Stockton 

AUTHOR   OF    "RUDDER   GRANGE,"    "THE    LADY    OR   THE   TIGER?"    ETC 


ILLUSTRATED     BY 
JOSEPH    PENNELL,  ALFRED   PARSONS,  AND    OTHERS 


NEW  YORK  : 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS. 

1889 


Copyright.  1889,  by 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS. 


Press   of  J.  J.   Little   &    Co. 
AMor  Place,  New  York. 


CONTENTS, 

I.  The  Roinaus,  but  not  Rome, Page  ^ 

II.  The  City  of  the  Bended  Knee, "  20 

III.  Little  Pisa  and  Great  Rome, "  )g 

IV.  Great  Rome  Again, "  59 

V.  Around  the  Bay  of  Naples, •.     •     •  "  Si 

VI.  hi  Florence  and  Venice, "-'  too 

VII.  A  Mountain  Top,  and  How  we  Get  There, '■'  iig 

VIII.  Queen  Paris, .  ''1^8 

IX.  King  London, "1^8 

X.  In  English  Country, "  181 

XL   The  Low  Countries  and  the  Rhine,        "  201 

XII.   The  People  we  Meet, "  226 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

t 

Leaving  Home, , Frontispiece. 

The  Landing-Stage  at  Liverpool, Page  4 

The  Twin-Steamer  "  Calais-Doiivre"  Crossing  the  English  Channel,  "  6 

The  Pont  dii  Card, "  12 

yiew  of  a  Portion  of  Genoa. —  The  Church  of  Santa   Maria   in 

Carignano  at  the  Summit, "  2g 

A  Distant  View  of  Pisa, "  41 

On  the  Pincian  Hill, "  5^ 

The  Castle  of  San  Angelo,  from   the    Tiber. — 5/.  Peter' s   in   the 

Distance, "  ^j 

A  Bird'  s-Eye  View  of  a  Part  of  Rome, "  6j 

In  the  Borghese  yUla  Gardens, "  y8 

Small  Shops  in  Naples, "  82 

Boys  at  Work  in  the  Excavations  of  Pompeii, "  8^ 

View  of  Excavated  Portion  of  Pompeii,  looking  northwest,     .     .  "  8j 


vlii  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The  Blue  Grotto,  Island  of  Capri, ,     . 

The  Mercato  Vecchio, 

A  Bit  of  Venice, 

A  Scene  in  Venice, 

The  Bridge  of  Sighs, 

St,  Mark's  and  the  Campanile, 

Feeding  the  Pigeons  in  the  Square  of  St.  Mark's, 

Scenes  on  the  Rigi  Railway, 

The  Rigi. — Shouing  Rail-way  to  the  Top  of  the  Mountain, 

Pont  and  Place  de  la  Concorde, 

The  Avenue  des  Champs  Elyse'es. —  The  Arch  of  Triumph   in  the 

Distance, 

The  Tomb  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte  in  the  Church  of  the  Invalides, 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  seen  over  the  Roofs  of  Neighbor ing  Houses, 

Westminster  Abbey, 

Th.'  I hiiscs  of  Parliaiih'iil , 

The  Victoria  Embankment ,  London, 

An  Fjiglish  Meadow,        

A  Village  Inn, 

A  Quiet  Bit  of  English  Country 


Page  93 
103 
106 

log 

"3 
116 

132 
140 

142 

"     131 

160 

165 

"      i6g 

"      '79 
"      183 

"      i8g 

"      ig6 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS.  ix 

A  Dutch  Windmill, Page  20 j 

A  House  on  the  Dunes, "     206 

Dining-Room  in  a  Dutch  House, "     2og 

The  Cathedral  of  Cologne. "     21 1 

The  Castle  of  Rheinstein, "     21  ^ 

The  Fortress  of  Ehrenbreitstein, "21"/ 

The  Hotel  de  Ville  of  Brussels, "     2ig 

Sketches  in  Antwerp, "■     225 

An  English  Railway  Official, •'     2^0 

French  Bonnes  and  their  Charges,        "2^1 

A  French  Policeman, .  "     2^2 

Italian  Beggars, "     2^4 

Following  the  Carriage, "255 

An  Italian  Model  waiting  for  an  Engagement, "     2^6 

Copying  in  the  Gallery, "     2^9 


Vlll 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The  Blue  Grotto,  Island  of  Capri, 
The  Mercato  Vecchio,       .     .     . 


A  Bit  of  Venice, 

A  Scene  in  Venice, 

The  Bridge  of  Sighs, 

5/.  Mark's  and  the  Campanile, 

Feeding  the  Pigeons  in  the  Square  of  St.  Mark' s,   ..... 

Scenes  on  the  Rigi  Railway, 

The  Rigi. — Showing  Railway  to  the  Top  of  the  Mountain, 

Pont  and  Place  de  la  Concorde, 

The  Avenue  des  Champs  Elyse'es. —  The  Arch  of  Triumph   in  the 

Distance, 

The  Tomb  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte  in  the  Church  of  the  Invalides, 
St.  Paul' s  Cathedral,  seen  over  the  Roofs  of  Neighboring  Houses, 

Westminster  Abbey, 

The  Houses  of  Parliament , 

The  Victoria  pjnbanknient ,  London, 


•  • 


An  luiglish  Meadow, 

A  Village  Inn, 

A  Quiet  Bit  of  English  Country, 


Page  93 
103 
106 
log 

115 
116 

125 

132 

140 

142 
'  75/ 
J  60 
163 
i6g 

'79 
"      183 

"      189 

"      ig6 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

A  Dutch  Windmill, 

A  House  on  the  Dunes, 

Dining-Room  in  a  Dutch  House, 

The  Cathedral  of  Cologne, 

The  Castle  of  Rheinstein, 

The  Fortress  of  Ehrenbreit stein, 

The  Hotel  de  Ville  of  Brussels, 

Sketches  in  Antwerp, 

An  English  Railway  Official, 

French  Bonnes  and  their  Charges,        

A  French  Policeman,       

Italian  Beggars, 

Following  the  Carriage, 

An  Italian  Model  waiting  for  an  Engagement, 

Copying  in  the  Gallery, 


IX 


Page  20^ 
"     206 
2og 

211 


21^ 


2iy 
"      2ig 


22 ) 


'  2JO 

"  2^5 

"  2^6 

■'  239 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


I. 

THE  ROMANS,  BUT  NOT  ROME. 

IT  is  quite  a  common  thing  for  persons  travelling  in  Europe  who 
are  unacquainted    with   the   countries   they  intend   to  visit,   to 

form  themselves  into  companies,  under  the  charge  of  a  man 
who  makes  it  his  business  to  go  with  such  parties  and  personally 
conduct  them  during  the  tours  and  journeys  that  may  be  agreed 
upon.  Besides  relieving  travellers  from  the  troubles  and  perplexi- 
ties which  often  befall  them  in  countries  with  the  language  and 
customs  of  which  they  are  not  well  acquainted,  the  personal  con- 
ductor is  familiar  with  all  the  objects  of  interest  in  the  various 
places  visited,  and  is  able  to  explain  to  those  under  his  charge 
everything  that  they  see. 

It  is  my  purpose  to  offer  my  services  to  you,  my  readers,  to 
personally  conduct  you  to  various  interesting  places  in  Europe.  I 
do  not  propose  to  take  you  over  all  Europe,  nor  to  stop  at  every 
well-known  place  upon  our  route,  for  to  do  this  would  require  a 
long  time.  Of  course,  there  are  few  places  in  the  world  which 
have  not  been  written  about ;  but  every  traveller  sees  something 
new,  or  sees  old  thingfs  in  a  new  liofht,  and  when  we  visit  ereat 
cities  or  noted  localities,  we  shall  not  only  try  to  enjoy  what  we 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


have  read  of  before,  but  to  find  out  as  much  as  possible  for  our- 
selves. I  shall  conduct  you  only  over  such  ground  as  I  myself 
have  previously  visited.  And  now,  as  we  know  what  is  to  be  done, 
we  will  set  out. 

If  we  cross  the  Atlantic  by  one  of  the  fast  steamships,  we  shall 
make  the  voyage  in  about  a  week.  But  if  we  are  going  to  Liver- 
pool, to  which  port  most  of  the  steamers  sail,  we  must  not  think 
that  our  journey  is  over  at  the  end  of  the  seventh  day.     At  that  time 


4i 

MTV      ''j"^   '  J     '       '.*T      ^^"    'i%  ' 


THE    LANDING-STAGK    Al     LlVERl'OOL. 


we  have  only  reached 
Queenstown,  Ireland. 
The  time  of  steamers 
crossing  the  Atlantic 
is  estimated  by  the 
number  of  days  and  hours  occu- 
pied in  going  from  Sandy  Hook 
to  Queenstown,  or  from  Queenstown  to  Sandy  Hook.  It  is  true 
that,  on  arriving  at  Queenstown  we  have  reached  Europe,  but  we 
must  go  on  for  about  a  day  more  before  we  get  to  Liverpool,  the 
end  of  our  voyage  ;  unless,  indeed,  we  choose  to  stop  for  a  time  in 
Ireland,  which  many  people  do.  We  arc  landed  at  Liverpool  by  a 
little  side-wheel  steamboat,  which  conveys  us  from  the  ocean  steamer, 
anchored  in  mid-stream,  to  the  "  landinof-staire  "  or  floating-  dock. 
And  here  I  may  as  well  state  at  once  that  we  are  on  our  way  to 


THE  ROMANS,    BUT  NOT  ROME. 


the  south  of  France  and  Italy,  and  that,  therefore,  we  shall  make 
short  stops,  at  present,  at  intervening  places,  no  matter  how  inter- 
esting they  may  be.  For  this  reason  we  shall  soon  leave  behind 
us  Liverpool,  with  its  magnificent  stone  docks,  its  seven  miles  of 
quays,  and  its  enormous  draught-horses,  which  bear  the  same  rela- 
tion to  common  horses  that  Jumbo  bore  to  common  elephants. 
Nor  shall  we  stop  very  long  at  the  queer  old  town  of  Chester,  full 
of  quaint  and  curious  houses  of  the  olden  time,  some  with  Scrip- 
tural texts  upon  their  fronts,  and  which  has  a  wall  entirely  around 
it,  built  by  the  Romans  when  these  mighty  people  were  masters  of 
England.  If  there  is  in  our  company  any  boy  or  girl  who  has 
studied  ancient  history  so  much  that  he  or  she  is  tired  of  hearing 
about  the  Romans,  that  member  of  our  party  must  either  turn  back 
and  go  home,  or  else  be  prepared  to  exercise  a  great  deal  of  resig- 
nation during  the  rest  of  our  journeys.  For,  in  travelling  over 
civilized  Europe,  we  might  as  well  try  to  avoid  English  or  American 
travellers  (who  are  to  be  found  everywhere)  as  to  avoid  the  archi- 
tectural remains  of  the  Romans,  who  were  as  sfreat  in  colonizing  as 
they  were  in  conquering,  and  who  left  marks  of  their  enterprise 
from  Africa  to  Scotland.  If  this  energetic  nation  had  known  of 
the  existence  of  a  continent  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  it 
is  very  likely  that  there  would  now  be  the  remains  of  a  Roman 
amphitheatre  on  Coney  Island,  and  a  Roman  wall  around  Burling- 
ton, New  Jersey.  Even  London,  the  greatest  city  in  the  civilized 
world,  where  we  shall  not  stop  now,  although  we  shall  visit  it  at 
a  future  time,  received  its  original  name,  Londinium,  from  the 
Romans,  who  made  it  from  two  Saxon  words. 

England  is  a  beautiful  country,  and  tempts  us  greatly  to  linger; 
but  we  must  keep  on  and  cross  over,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  the 
Continent ;  and,  as  some  of  us  are  probably  subject  to  sea-sickness, 
we  will  choose   the  shortest  sea  route — that   between    Dover  and 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


Calais.*  The  English  Channel  is  one  of  the  worst  places  in  the 
world  for  causing  sea-sickness,  and  we  shall  take  passage  upon 
a  very  curious  vessel,  built  for  the  purpose  of  preventing,  so  far  as 
possible,  the  rolling,  pitching,  and  tossing  which  cause  many  travel- 
lers to  suffer  more  in  a  few  hours'  trip  between  England  and  France 
than  they  had  suffered  in  their  whole  voyage  across  the  wide 
Atlantic.  This  vessel  is,  in  reality,  two  boats,  placed  side  by  side, 
and  covered  with  one  deck  like  the  catamarans  in  use  in  the  United 


THE   TWIN-STEAMER    '    CALAIS-DOUVRE       CROSSING   THE   ENGLISH    CHANNEL. 


States.  It  has  a  comparatively  easy  and  steady  motion,  and  it  is 
quite  a  novel  experience  to  go  out  to  the  forward  rail,  and  see 
the  bows  of  the  two  vessels  in  front  of  us  ploughing  through  the 
water,  side  by  side,  as  if  they  were  a  pair  of  steamboats  running 
a  very  even  race.  From  Calais  we  go  by  rail  to  Paris,  the  most 
beautiful  of  all  the  great  cities  of  the  world  ;  but  it  is  not  our 
intention  to  stop  here  now,  and  so  we  keep  on  toward  the  south  of 
France. 

Our  first  actual  visit  will  be  made  to  the  small  but  very  old  city 

*  Pronounced  :  in  English,  Kalis, — in  French,  Kal a. 


THE  ROMANS,    BUT  NOT  ROME. 


of  Avignon/''"  on  the  River  Rhone.  This  is  a  good  place  at  which 
to  begin  our  foreign  Hfe,  for  there  are  few  towns  in  Europe  which 
to  an  American  boy  or  girl  would  seem  more  thoroughly  foreign 
than  Avignon.  The  town  is  surrounded  by  a  high  wall,  with  the 
battlements  and  towers  almost  as  perfect  as  when  they  were  built 
in  the  fourteenth  century.  Nearly  all  the  streets  are  either  narrow 
or  crooked,  and  many  are  both,  as  streets  used  to  be  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  some  of  them  are  cut  through  solid  rock,  with  queer  old 
houses  perched  high  overhead.  But  there  are  broad  open  spaces,  and 
one  straight  wide  street,  which,  with  the  handsome  gate  at  the  end 
of  it,  was  formerly  called  the  street  and  gate  of  Petrarch,  after  the 
famous  poet  who  lived  near  Avignon.  Lately,  however,  the  French 
people  have  changed  its  name,  and  now  it  is  called  the  street  of  the 
Republic.  But  with  this  exception  there  is  nothing  about  Avignon 
that  v/ould  remind  us  of  any  modern  town.  Everything  we  see — 
the  houses,  the  streets,  the  churches — looks  as  if  it  had  been  in  use 
for  centuries. 

In  the  year  1309  Avignon  became  a  very  important  place  in  the 
eyes  of  Europe  ;  for  in  that  year  the  Pope  of  Rome  came  to  live 
here,  and  made  this  little  city  the  central  seat  of  government  of  the 
Christian  Church.  Civil  wars  in  Italy  made  Rome  a  very  unpleasant 
place  for  the  popes  to  live  in,  and,  through  the  influence  of  the  king 
of  France,  Pope  Clement  V.  established  himself  at  Avignon,  and 
other  popes  succeeded  him  ;  and  the  fact  that  for  nearly  a  hundred 
years  the  popes  lived  at  Avignon,  has  given  this  little  city  an 
important  place  in  history. 

The  massive  palace  in  which  the  popes  used  to  live  still  stands 
upon  a  hill  called  the  Rocher  des  Doms,  overlooking  the  town. 
This  building,  lofty  in  height  and  immense  in  extent,  is  now  occu- 
pied as  a  military  barracks  ;  but  visitors  can  walk  through  it  and  see 

*  Pronounced  A-veen yon? . 


8  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

many  remains  of  its  former  grandeur.  But  in  its  lofty  halls  (the 
walls  of  which  were  covered  with  fresco  paintings  by  Italian  mas- 
ters) rude  soldiers  now  eat,  drink,  and  sleep,  where  popes  and 
cardinals  once  moved  about  in  state. 

After  a  visit  to  the  old  cathedral  near  by,  we  go  out  upon  the 
upper  part  of  the  hill,  which  is  laid  out  as  a  pleasure-ground,  with 
handsome  walks  and  shrubbery.  From  a  high  point  here  we  have 
one  of  the  finest  views  in  France.  Far  off  to  the  eastward,  with  its 
white  head  against  the  deep  blue  sky,  is  a  mountain,  its  top  covered 
with  perpetual  snow.  It  is  Mont  Ventoux,*  one  of  the  Maritime 
Alps  ;  and,  although  we  shall  see  much  grander  mountains,  we  shall 
not  be  likely  to  forget  this  one,  on  top  of  which  is  lying,  perhaps, 
the  first  perpetual  snow  that  some  of  us  have  ever  seen.  Far  away 
on  every  side,  we  have  beautiful  views  of  the  Rhone  valley  and  the 
surrounding  country,  with  its  dark  masses  of  forest,  its  vast  stretches 
of  fields  and  proves  of  olive-trees,  and  its  little  white  stone  villages 
scattered  about  here  and  there  upon  the  landscape.  The  River 
Rhone  runs  close  to  the  foot  of  the  Rocher  des  Doms  ;  and  looking 
across  its  two  branches,  which  are  here  separated  by  a  large  island, 
we  see  something  that  seems  like  a  fortress.  The  four  walls,  enclos- 
ing a  large  square  space,  have  battlements  and  towers,  most  of  which 
are  now  broken  down  ;  but  two  fine  old  towers,  with  a  gate-way 
between  them,  still  stand  up  bold  and  high.  Near  these  ruins  is  a 
long,  straggling  town,  which  is  the  very  old  town  of  Villeneuve,f  or 
New  City  ;  and  the  place  with  the  walls  around  it  is  tlie  ruins  of 
the  fortified  Abbey  of  St.  Andrew,  which  used  to  be  a  very  impor- 
tant establishment  in  the  time  of  the  popes.  Just  beneath  us  there 
is  a  part  of  an  ancient  bridge  which  once  stretched  across  the  two 
branches  of  the  river,  and  over  the  island,  to  the  other  side.  The 
swift-fiowing  Rhone,  however,  has  long  since  carried  away  nearly  all 

*  Pronounced  Mon^  z'on^  too  ,  \  Pronounced  Veel-nuv . 


THE  ROMANS,    BUT  NOT  ROME. 


of  it,  and  there  is  nothing  left  but  a  small  portion,  with  a  little  chapel 
standino-  on  the  outermost  and  broken  end. 

There  is  now  a  modern  bridge  over  the  river,  and,  as  I  know  we 
will  all  wish  to  examine  the  ruins  of  the  abbey  on  the  other  side, 
we  will  cross  over  this ;  and  we  soon  enter  the  town  of  Villeneuve, 
which  I  am  sure  is  the  saddest  and  most  deserted-looking  place  that 
any  of  you  ever  saw  in  your  lives. 

There  are  few  persons  to  be  seen  anywhere.  We  go  up  a  long 
street  with  dead-looking  houses  on  each  side,  and  occasionally  we 
see  a  magnificent  stone  portal  with  pillars  and  carved  ornaments, 
which  would  seem  to  lead  to  some  grand  palace  ;  but,  on  looking 
through  the  gate-way  we  see  nothing  behind  but  a  miserable  little 
stone  shanty,  the  palace  having  long  ago  gone  to  ruin.  An  impos- 
ing entrance  of  this  kind,  which  leads  to  nothing  of  any  consequence, 
reminds  me  of  some  people  I  have  met. 

I  must  say  here,  while  speaking  of  the  aspect  of  Villeneuve,  that 
we  must  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  depressed  by  the  melancholy 
little  villages  we  shall  meet  with  in  our  travels  in  the  southern  part 
of  Europe.  We  must  not  expect  pretty  houses,  surrounded  by  shade- 
trees,  fresh  grass,  and  flower-beds,  such  as  we  see  in  country  places 
at  home.  In  England,  and  some  parts  of  the  Continent,  many  of  the 
small  country  houses  and  villages  are  extremely  picturesque  and 
attractive  ;  but  in  the  southern  part  of  Europe,  where  the  summers 
are  long  and  hot,  the  houses  in  the  villages  are  built  of  gray  or  whit- 
ish stone,  with  as  few  windows  as  possible,  and  are  crowded  close 
together.  The  narrow  streets  are  hard  and  white,  and  look  as  if 
they  were  made  of  the  same  stone  as  the  houses.  The  heat  can- 
not penetrate  into  these  tomb-like  buildings,  and  they  may  be  very 
cool  and  satisfactory  to  the  people  who  live  in  them,  but  they  have 
not  a  cheerful  air.  But  we  shall  get  used  to  this  and  many  other 
things  which   are  either  better  or  worse  than  what  we   have  left 


lO  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

behind  us  at  home;  and  the  sooner  we  make  up  our  minds  to  enjoy, 
so  far  as  we  can,  whatever  sights  we  see,  without  continually  com- 
paring them  with  things  at  home,  the  greater  pleasure  shall  we  take 
in  our  travels,  and  the  greater  advantage  will  they  be  to  us. 

When  we  have  passed  through  the  town  and  have  reached  the 
old  abbey,  we  find  a  little  man  with  a  bunch  of  keys  ;  he  is  called 
the  gardien,  and  has  the  privilege  of  showing  the  place.  Did  any 
of  you  ever  read  "  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  by  Mrs.  Radcliffe  ? 
If  you  have,  you  will  remember  that  the  story  is  full  of  secret 
passages,  concealed  door-ways,  trap-doors,  and  dungeons.  The 
two  orreat  round  towers  which  stand  on  each  side  of  the  main 
entrance  to  this  abbey  are  very  much  like  my  idea  of  the  Castle  of 
Udolpho.  We  enter  one  of  the  towers  by  a  little  door  on  the 
ground,  and  find  ourselves  in  a  dark  apartment  ;  then  we  go  up 
narrow,  winding  stone  stairs,  with  a  rope  on  one  side  to  take  hold 
of  ;  and  so  visit,  one  after  another,  the  various  dungeons  and 
rooms  of  the  two  towers,  which  are  connected,  and  which  for 
centuries  were  used  tor  prisons.  In  a  small  dark  stone  cell  there 
is  an  inscription  stating  that  Gaston,  brother  of  Louis  XIV.,  was 
here  confined.  It  is  said  he  was  the  "  Man  with  the  Iron  Mask," 
who,  from  time  to  time,  was  shut  up  in  various  prisons  of  France. 
One  of  the  large  rooms  has  its  stone  floor  literally  covered  with 
inscriptions  scratched  or  carved  there  by  prisoners.  Some  of  these 
were  made  as  late  as  the  great  French  Revolution,  while  others 
date  back  to  the  tenth  century.  Some  are  very  elaborate,  and  it 
must  have  taken  the  prisoners  a  long  time  to  cut  them  out ;  but  that 
was  probably  the  only  way  they  had  of  passing  the  time.  In  the 
upper  part  of  one  of  the  towers  is  the  bakery,  with  immense  ovens, 
still  apparently  in  good  order.  Near  by  is  the  little  cell  where 
the  baker,  who  was  always  a  prisoner,  was  every  night  locked  up. 
The  gardien  will    point  out  to  us  trap-doors,   on   which   we   feel 


THE  ROMANS,    BUT  NOT  ROME.  i  I 

somewhat  fearful  to  tread,  and  doors  and  dark  passages  which  we 
should  never  be  likely  to  find  by  ourselves.  And,  at  last,  we  make 
our  way  down  the  stone  stairs,  which  are  worn  by  the  steps  of 
many  generations  of  prisoners,  guards,  and  jailers,  and  out  into 
the  great  enclosed  space  surrounded  by  the  abbey  walls.  There 
are  other  towers  at  the  corners  of  these  walls,  but  they  are  in 
a  ruined  condition.  Almost  in  the  centre  of  the  enclosure  is  a 
comparatively  modern  convent,  with  a  wall  around  it.  This  is 
the  only  place  within  the  bounds  of  the  ancient  abbey  that  is 
inhabited. 

Ruins  of  this  kind  possess  a  historical  interest,  and  those  who 
wish  to  understand  the  manners  and  customs  of  people  of  the 
Middle  Ages  should  not  fail  to  visit  them,  if  it  is  in  their  power  ; 
but,  after  all,  I  think  we  shall  feel  relieved  when  we  go  away  from 
this  gloomy  fortress  and  these  melancholy  dungeons,  and  prepare 
to  visit  something  which  is  a  relic  of  the  past — I  may  say  of  the 
very  long,  long  past — but  which  has  no  saddening  traditions  con- 
nected with  it. 

What  we  are  now  going  to  see  is  not  at  Avignon,  but  is  distant 
about  an  hour's  ride  by  rail.  It  is  the  Pont  du  Gard  *  (or  "  Bridge 
of  the  Gard"),  a  great  bridge,  or  aqueduct,  built  here  by  the 
Romans  at  a  time  when  this  part  of  France  was  occupied  by  the 
soldiers  and  colonies  of  that  people  ;  and,  next  to  the  Colosseum 
at  Rome,  it  is  considered  the  grandest  and  most  perfect  piece  of 
Roman  architecture  now  standinof  in  the  world. 

In  order  to  properly  see  this  great  ruin,  we  shall  give  a  day  to 
the  visit ;  and  we  shall  take  a  morning  train  at  the  station  at  the 
end  of  the  bridge,  opposite  Avignon,  and  go  to  Remoulin,f  a 
small  villagfe  about  two  miles  from  the  Pont  du  Gard.  Then  as 
many  of  us  as  can  be  accommodated  will  get  into  little  carriages, 

*  Pronounced  Pou^  du  Gar.  f  Pronounced  Reh-moo-lanf' . 


12 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED, 


each  drawn  by  one  horse  with  a  high  horn  to  his  collar,  on  which 
hang  bells,  and  driven  by  a  man  in  a  blue  blouse,  with  a  whip  that 
cracks  as  merrily  as  the  bells  jingle  ;  and  the  rest  of  us,  I  suppose, 
will  have  to  walk.  The  most  of  our  road  is  by  the  little  River 
Gardon,  usually  called  the  Gard  ;  and,  as  we  go  along,  we  see 
French  rural  life  much  better  than  we  can  from  the  windows  of  a 


THE    I'ONT     DC     (JARD. 


railway  train.  The  road  is  smooth  and  hard,  like  those  of  our  city 
parks.  Of  this  kind,  indeed,  are  nearly  all  the  roads  in  France. 
When  we  have  gone  about  two  miles,  we  reach  a  valley  formed  by 
two  rows  of  high  hills,  which  rise  on  each  side  of  the  river;  and  at 
a  turn  in  the  road  we  suddenly  see  before  us  the  great  Pont  dii 
Gard.  It  is  an  immense  stone  bridge,  rising  high  into  the  air  and 
stretching  across  the  whole  valley.      It  consists  of  three  rows   of 


THE  ROMANS,    BUT  NOT  ROME.  13 

arches,  one  above  the  other.  In  the  lower  row  there  are  six  very 
large  arches  ;  above  this  is  a  longer  row  of  eleven  smaller  arches  ; 
and  over  this,  thirty-five  arches  still  smaller.  On  the  top  of  the 
upper  row,  and  forming  the  summit  of  the  bridge,  is  a  covered 
aqueduct,  or  water-way.  At  a  little  distance  this  vast  bridge  seems 
almost  as  entire  and  perfect  as  when  first  built,  and  we  can  hardly 
realize  the  fact  that  it  has  stood  there  for  nineteen  centuries.  The 
valley  here  is  wild  and  almost  desolate.  There  is  a  mill  on  one 
side  of  the  river,  and  a  small  house,  nearly  concealed  by  trees,  on 
the  other  ;  and  an  occasional  wagon  may  be  seen  moving  slowly 
along  the  road,  or  crossing  the  river  on  a  bridge,  which  was  built 
in  1743  for  military  purposes,  close  to  the  lower  arches  of  the 
ancient  structure  and  partly  resting  on  them.  Otherwise  the  place 
is  quiet  and  deserted,  as  it  probably  always  has  been  ;  and  it  seems 
strange  that  the  Romans  should  have  built  such  a  stupendous  and 
costly  bridge  in  a  spot  like  this.  But  it  was  not  put  here  that 
people  might  cross  the  little  River  Gardon,  which  is  spanned  by  a 
single  one  of  the  lower  row  of  arches.  There  is  a  broad  pavement 
of  great  slabs  of  stone  on  the  top  of  this  first  row  of  arches,  and 
on  this  persons  could  walk  if  there  happened  to  be  anybody  who 
wanted  to  cross  the  river  at  this  point ;  but  vehicles  could  never  go 
over  the  Pont  du  Gard.  It  was  erected  solely  for  the  purpose  of 
carrying  water  across  the  valley,  and  was  part  of  an  aqueduct, 
twenty-five  miles  long,  constructed  by  the  Romans  to  conduct  the 
water  of  the  springs  of  Airan  to  their  town  of  Nemausus,  now  the 
French  town  of  Nimes.*  Remains  of  this  aqueduct  may  still  be  seen 
in  various  parts  of  the  country  between  the  springs  and  Nimes. 

We  all  stop  for  a  few  moments  to  gaze  at  this  massive 
structure — even  now  one  of  the  greatest  bridges  in  the  world — 
and  then  we  hurry  forward  to  take  possession  of  it.       This  we  may 

*  Pronounced  Neetn. 


14  PERSONALLY  COXDUCTED. 


truly  do  for  as  long  a  time  as  we  please,  for  there  is  no  gardien 
here  in  charge  of  the  bridge  ;  there  are  no  guides  to  take  us  about 
and  explain  everything,  as  if  they  were  "  saying  a  lesson  "  which 
they  had  learned  years  ago,  and  had  repeated  every  day  since  : 
and  it  is  very  likely  there  are  no  tourists  wandering  up  and  down 
with  red  guide-books  in  their  hands,  for  it  is  an  out-of-the-way 
place.  So  we  have  the  great  bridge  to  ourselves,  and  can  wander 
and  climb  about  it  as  much  as  we  like.  We  send  the  little 
carriages  back  to  Remoulin,  with  orders  to  return  for  us  in  the 
afternoon,  and  give  ourselves  up  to  the  pleasant  occupation  of 
finding  out  exactly  what  sort  of  a  bridge  the  Romans  constructed 
when  they  made  up  their  minds  to  build  a  really  good  one.  The 
first  thing  we  do  is  to  pass  under  some  of  the  lower  arches  to  the 
farther  side  ;  and  this  we  can  easily  do,  for,  as  I  said  before,  the 
little  river  runs  under  but  one  of  these  arches,  the  others  stretch- 
ing over  the  rocks,  the  grass,  and  the  road  in  the  bottom  of  the 
valley.  From  the  other  side  we  get  a  view  of  the  ancient  bridge 
unobstructed  by  the  modern  one,  which  was  buih  by  a  warrior 
duke  for  the  purpose  of  getting  his  cannon  and  military  wagons 
across  the  stream,  and  which  is  now  a  very  good  bridge  for 
vehicles  of  the  present  day.  As  we  gaze  up  at  the  old  bridge,  we 
see  great  stones  projecting  at  regular  intervals  from  its  sides,  from 
the  bottom  up  to  the  top  of  the  second  row  of  arches.  These 
served  as  supports  to  the  derricks  and  other  machines  by  which 
the  massive  stones  were  raised  as  the  building  progressed  ;  and 
when  Agrippa  (the  son-in-law  of  Caesar  Augustus ),  who  is  believed 
to  have  built  this  bridge,  had  finished  liis  great  work,  he  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  make  his  workmen  cut  off  these  projecting 
stones,  and  thus  we  have  an  idea  of  one  of  the  methods  by  which 
the  Roman  stone-masons  worked.  When  we  go  up  to  the  road, 
which  is  on  a  level  with   the   to|)  of  the   first  row  of  arches,  we  all 


THE  ROMANS,    BUT  NOT  ROME.  1 5 

cross  the  bridge  on  the  broad  pavement,  which  seems  as  smooth 
and  solid  as  when  it  was  laid  down,  before  the  beginning  of  the 
Christian  era.  The  second  row  of  arches  rests  upon  this  pave- 
ment ;  but  there  is  plenty  of  room  on  the  outside  of  them  for  us  to 
walk,  and,  if  we  keep  on  the  side  next  to  the  modern  bridge,  there 
is  no  danger  of  falling  off.  When  we  step  under  the  arches  of  this 
second  row  and  look  up,  we  see  the  square  indentations  in  the 
stone-work  which  were  made  there  to  support  the  scaffolding  of 
the  Roman  masons.  The  world  has  changed  so  much  since  those 
holes  were  made  that  it  is  almost  like  a  new  world ;  and  if 
Agrippa,  the  famous  aqueduct-builder,  could  come  back  to  life,  he 
would  find  a  wonderfully  different  Rome  and  a  wonderfully  dif- 
ferent Europe  from  those  he  used  to  know,  but  he  would  see  the 
square  holes  in  his  arches  exactly  as  he  left  them. 

When  we  have  examined  the  bridge  as  much  as  we  wish  to 
from  this  broad  lower  pavement,  we  make  up  our  minds  to  go  to 
the  very  top  of  it,  and  see  what  is  to  be  seen  there.  The  aqueduct, 
which  rests  on  the  upper  row  of  arches,  extends  from  the  upper 
part  of  the  hills  on  one  side  of  the  valley  to  the  hills  on  the  other, 
and  we  can  reach  it  by  climbing  a  steep  path.  When  we  get  to  the 
end  of  the  path — and  those  of  you  who  are  inclined  to  be  fat,  and 
also  inclined  to  be  in  a  hurry,  must  expect  to  puff  a  little  at  this 
point — we  find  that  we  can  look  through  the  long  covered  water- 
way from  one  end  to  the  other.  But,  more  than  this,  we  can  walk 
through  it  if  we  choose,  and  this  we  immediately  prepare  to  do. 
This  long  passage,  through  which  the  water  used  to  run,  is  several 
feet  wide,  and  higher  than  a  tall  man,  and  in  some  places  the  broad 
slabs  of  stone  which  formed  its  roof  are  missing,  so  that  it  is  now 
very  well  lighted.  There  is  no  danger  in  walking  through  it,  for 
there  are  no  holes  in  the  floor  through  which  one  might  fall,  and 
the  walls   of   the  aqueduct  are   still   perfect.     The  bridge   is   old, 


1 6  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

but  it  is  solid  enough  to  support  all  the  people  who  may  choose  to 
walk  through  its  water-way,  and  hundreds  of  years  from  now  it  will 
probably  be  as  strong  as  it  is  to-day.  There  have  been  young  men 
who  have  partly  crossed  this  bridge  by  climbing  on  the  roof  of  the 
water-way  and  walking  on  the  top  of  the  stone  slabs.  There  is 
no  railing  there  for  any  of  them  to  catch  hold  of  should  they  make 
a  misstep,  and,  although  it  is  quite  wide  enough  to  walk  on,  it  is 
too  high  in  the  air  to  make  it  safe  for  a  promenade.  So  we  shall 
keep  off  this  roof,  and  walk  in  the  narrow  passage  through  which 
the  water  used  to  flow  to  the  old  Roman  town. 

When  this  water-way  was  built,  it  was  lined  wath  the  famous 
Roman  cement,  through  which  water  could  not  penetrate.  The 
bottom,  or  floor,  of  the  passage  is  now  a  good  deal  broken,  and 
there  are  loose  pieces  of  this  plaster,  about  half  an  inch  thick, 
lying  here  and  there.  I  dare  say  many  of  the  young  people  will 
pick  up  some  of  these,  and  carry  them  away  as  mementos  of  mason- 
work  which  was  comparatively  new  and  fresh  at  the  time  when 
Mary  and  Joseph,  with  their  little  Child,  took  their  flight  into 
Egypt.  It  is  not  right  to  injure  monuments  or  buildings,  either 
ancient  or  modern,  by  carrying  away  pieces  of  them  as  relics,  but 
there  is  no  harm  in  taking  a  piece  of  plaster  which  may  be  crushed 
by  the  first  heavy  heel  that  treads  upon  it.  It  is  a  queer  sensation, 
walking  through  this  long  rectangular  pipe — for  it  is  nothing  else — 
which  is  raised  to  such  a  great  height  in  the  air.  When  we  arrive 
at  about  the  middle,  those  of  us  who  happen  to  think  of  the  three 
rows  of  arches  beneath  us,  and  of  the  good  old  age  to  which  they 
have  arrived,  may  perhaps  begin  to  feel  a  little  nervous ;  but  there 
is  really  no  danger,  and  if  you  think  you  feel  the  bridge  swerving 
from  side  to  side,  it  is  all  imagination.  It  is  certainly  a  very  nar- 
row bridtre,  considering:  its  trreat  height  and  lenorth,  but  the  storms 
of  nineteen  centuries  have  not  moved  it. 


THE  ROMANS,    BUT  NOT  ROME.  I  J 

When  we  come  to  the  other  end  of  the  bridge,  we  find  that  it 
is  somewhat  broken,  and  does  not  reach  the  hill-top  in  front  of  it ; 
but  there  are  stones,  like  steps,  by  which  we  can  make  our  way  to 
a  path  which  will  take  us  down  the  hill  to  the  valley.  This  valley 
is  a  delightful  place  for  a  picnic,  and  here  we  shall  sit  down  and 
eat  the  luncheons  we  have  brought  with  us.  In  some  places  the 
ground  is  covered  with  beautiful  green  grass,  shaded  by  trees,  and 
near  the  bridge  are  many  rocks  which  are  pleasant  to  sit  upon. 
Not  far  away  is  an  olive  orchard,  and  when  I  first  visited  this  place 
many  of  the  olives  were  ripe.  I  had  never  before  seen  ripe  olives, 
which  are  of  a  dark  purple,  almost  black,  and  look  like  little  plums. 
I  naturally  wished  to  know  how  they  tasted,  and  so  I  picked  one  and 
tried  it.  I  do  not  believe  the  owner  of  the  grove  would  object  to 
the  boys  and  girls  picking  as  many  ripe  olives  as  they  chose,  pro- 
vided they  would  give  him  a  cent  apiece  for  all  they  did  not  eat 
after  tasting  one.  The  foliage  of  olive  trees  is  of  a  dull  grayish 
green,  and  although  picturesque  when  seen  in  masses  and  at  a 
little  distance  with  the  sunlight  upon  it,  is  not  of  a  cheerful  hue. 
But  an  olive  grove  will  always  appear  more  cheerful  to  those  who 
have  not  tasted  the  ripe  fruit  than  to  those  who  have.  The  olives 
which  we  use  on  our  tables  are  picked  green  and  pickled  ;  those 
which  ripen  are  used  for  oil. 

We  wander  by  the  side  of  the  little  river,  which  sometimes 
spreads  out  to  quite  a  width,  overhung  by  trees,  and  then  hurries 
between  rocks  toward  the  mill,  where  it  spreads  itself  out  again 
and  falls  gayly  over  a  dam.  Then  we  sit  upon  the  rocks  and 
the  erass,  and  look  throug-h  the  oreat  lower  arches  of  the  old 
bridge,  and  we  see  through  each  one  a  different  picture ;  some- 
times a  bit  of  the  river,  the  mill,  and  distant  hills  spotted  with 
villages  and  steeples  ;  sometimes  the  river,  a  grove,  the  bright  green 
grass,  and  the  deep  blue  sky  ;  and  then  again  a  white  road,  with  a 


1 8  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

queer  old-fashioned  wagon  making  its  way  slowly  along ;  or  high, 
rocky  hills,  and  a  mass  of  deep  green  foliage,  with  a  bit  of  sky  just 
visible  at  the  top. 

And,  when  we  gaze  upward,  there  is  the  bridge,  wonderful  in 
its  size,  its  beauty,  and  enduring  strength,  and  still  more  wonderful 
in  the  story  it  tells  of  that  great  nation  which  once  spread  itself 
over  the  known  world,  leaving  everywhere  monuments  of  its  power 
and  wealth.  But,  with  one  exception,  none  of  its  monuments  which 
survive  to-day  are  so  vast  and  imposing  as  this  immense  bridge, 
built  simply  for  the  purpose  of  giving  good  pure  water  to  the  inhab- 
itants of  a  little  town.  Nearly  every  one  who  sees  the  Pont  du 
Gard  makes  the  remark  that  it  seems  stran^re  that  such  an  enormous 
and  expensive  bridge  should  have  been  built  just  to  carry  w^ter 
across  that  valley.      Truly,  the  Romans  were  an  energetic  people. 

The  reason  why  the  Pont  du  Gard  is  now  so  much  more  a  per- 
fect structure  than  that  other  great  remaining  work  of  the  Roman 
architects,  the  Colosseum,  is  that  it  has  always  stood  at  a  distance 
from  towns  and  cities,  whose  inhabitants  micjht  want  its  stones  to 
build  their  palaces  and  their  huts.  It  is  not  the  hand  of  time  that 
has,  in  most  cases,  destroyed  the  temples  and  other  architectural 
works  of  the  ancients,  but  the  hand  of  man.  They  were  built 
strongly  and  massively;  but,  although  they  could  resist  the  storms 
of  centuries,  they  could  not  resist  the  crow-bars  of  men,  who  found 
it  much  easier  to  take  away  their  stones,  already  cut  and  shaped, 
than  to  quarry  building  material  from  the  rocks.  The  world  has 
now  more  respect  for  ancient  remains  than  it  used  to  have  ;  and  I 
feel  sure  that  if  ever  a  town  arises  near  the  Pont  du  Gard,  the 
stones  of  the  old  bridge  will  not  be  taken  to  build  its  houses. 

But  now  we  hear  jingling  bells  and  the  cracking  of  whips,  and 
here  come  the  little  carriages  to  take  us  back  to  Remoulin. 

At   Nimes,  and  at   some  other  places  in   the  south  of  France, 


THE  ROMANS,    BUT  NOT  ROME.  19 


there  are  ruins  of  amphitheatres  and  other  Roman  buildings;  but 
we  shall  not  visit  these  now.  After  a  while  we  wish  to  go  to  Rome, 
and  if  we  see  too  many  Roman  ruins  before  we  get  there,  it  may 
take  off  a  little  of  the  edge  of  the  keen  pleasure  we  expect  in  the 
Eternal  City. 

But  the  Pont  du  Gard  is  something  that  is  different  from  any- 
thing else  in  the  world  :  it  would  not  do  to  miss  that. 


II. 


THE    CITY    OF    THE    BENDED    KNEE. 

IT  is  not  by  any  means  a  humble  city  to  which  I  am  now  about  to 
conduct  you  :  it  is   an  old  city,  which  from  time  to   time  has 

been  as  proud  as  any  in  the  world  ;  it  is  Genoa,  called  by  the 
Italians  La  Superba,  because  of  its  many  magnificent  palaces,  and 
because  of  its  imposing  appearance,  as  it  rises  in  terraces  above  its 
bay  on  the  side  of  a  crescent-shaped  hill.  It  was  called  Genoa,  so 
say  the  people  who  make  it  their  business  to  look  into  these  things, 
from  the  Latin  word  genu,  a  knee ;  because  at  the  place  where  the 
city  stands,  the  land  is  bent  around  the  water  so  as  to  give  the  latter 
the  shape  of  a  bended  knee. 

As  I  have  said,  Genoa  has  been  a  proud  city.  As  far  back  as 
the  days  of  the  Romans  it  was  an  important  seaport.  It  was  inde- 
pendent, and  governed  itself,  and  its  power  increased  greatly.  Other 
towns  looked  up  to  it  for  protection  against  the  Saracen  pirates  ; 
and  it  acquired  possession,  not  only  of  islands  in  the  Mediterranean, 
but  of  lands  and  ports  in  the  P2ast.  Its  commerce  was  very  exten- 
sive, and  it  took  a  prominent  part  in  the  crusades.  It  made  war 
against  Pisa,  and  utterly  defeated  the  navy  of  that  city  ;  and  there 
is  reason  to  believe  that  the  great  Tower  of  Pisa  has  never  stood  up 
straiofht  since. 

But,  in  spite  of  its  wealth  and  its  power,  Genoa  has  been  obliged 
to  bend  the  knee  about  as  often  as  any  city  that  I  know  of.  In  the 
tenth  century  it  knelt  down  to  the  Saracens,  who  captured  it ;  and 
afterward  it  bent  its  knee  to  Venice,  its  great  rival  in  commerce. 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  BENDED  KNEE.  21 

For  many  years  its  nobles  were  arrayed  against  each  other  as 
Guelphs  and  Ghibellines,  and  whenever  either  party  was  defeated, 
it  would  call  in  some  foreign  power  to  help  it ;  and  in  this  way  the 
city,  at  different  times,  fell  under  the  control  of  various  kings  and 
princes  of  Europe.  The  Turks  took  away  its  Eastern  possessions, 
and  long  afterward  it  was  captured  by  Germany,  and  was  twice 
taken  possession  of  by  France.  It  now  belongs  to  the  United 
Kingdom  of  Italy.  But,  although  it  is  no  longer  independent, 
Genoa  stands  up  very  erect  in  its  own  estimation  ;  and  it  has  a  right 
to  do  so,  for  it  is  the  first  commercial  city  in  Italy, 

Genoa  is  a  bright  and  lively  place,  where  the  people  seem  to 
keep  awake  all  day,  and  there  are  a  great  many  things  to  see  here. 
An  American  boy  or  girl  could  not  go  into  any  part  of  the  city 
without  findinof  somethinor  interestino^.  We  shall  first  visit  some 
of  the  palaces,  and  on  our  way  we  pass  through  the  street  of  the 
goldsmiths.  Genoa  is  almost  as  much  celebrated  for  a  peculiar 
kind  of  gold  and  silver  work  as  it  is  for  its  palaces,  and  we  shall 
wish  to  stop  and  look  at  the  shop  Vv'indows  in  this  busy  little  street. 
There  are  no  sidewalks,  but  the  whole  street  is  a  footway  paved 
with  large  smooth  flag-stones,  and  if  a  carriage  or  wagon  appears 
in  it,  it  moves  slowly  among  the  people.  Nearly  every  little  shop 
belongs  to  a  goldsmith,  as  they  are  called,  although  they  work  more 
in  silver  than  in  gold,  and  the  productions  of  these  artisans  consist 
almost  entirely  of  small  articles  and  ornaments  made  of  fine  silver 
wire,  often  gilded,  and  woven  into  the  most  delicate  and  beautiful 
shapes.  Work  like  this  is  not  to  be  seen  in  such  perfection  any- 
where as  in  Genoa.  Some  of  the  shops  are  entirely  open  in  front, 
so  that  you  can  stand  in  the  street  and  look  at  the  large  cases  filled 
with  this  fairy-like  gold  and  silver  work  ;  and,  if  you  wish  to  buy 
some  of  the  articles,  you  will  find  that  they  are  not  costly. 

From  this  street  we  turn  into  another,  with  tall  houses  on  each 


2  2  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

side,  and  shops  and  people  everywhere.  We  soon  pass  an  Immense 
house,  which  was  once  a  palace,  but  is  now  used  for  other  purposes. 
Looking  up,  we  see  that  one  of  the  great  windows  in  the  second 
story  is  open,  and  a  lady  is  sitting  at  it.  She  is  dressed  in  very 
bright,  though  somewhat  old-fashioned,  attire.  Flowers  and  vines 
cluster  inside  the  window,  and  there  is  a  hantjino-  cacre  with  a  bird. 
As  we  stop  and  look  at  her,  the  lady  does  not  move,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  we  perceive  that  the  window,  the  lady,  the  open  shutters, 
the  sash,  the  flowers,  and  the  cage  are  all  painted  on  the  wall  in  a 
space  where  you  would  naturally  expect  to  find  a  window.  This 
used  to  be  a  favorite  way  of  decorating  houses  in  Italy,  and  in 
Genoa  we  shall  frequently  see  these  painted  windows,  some  closed, 
and  some  partly  open,  some  with  one  person  looking  out,  some  with 
two,  and  some  with  none.  The  lady  at  this  window  has  sat  and 
looked  out  on  the  street  for  hundreds  of  years.  Under  her  window, 
into  the  great  entrance  of  the  palace,  used  to  pass  nobles  and 
princes.  Now  there  are  shops  in  the  lower  part  of  the  palace,  and 
you  can  have  your  shoes  mended  by  a  cobbler  In  the  court-yard. 

We  soon  reach  the  street  which  contains  the  orreatest  number 
of  palaces,  and  which  is  now  called  the  Via  Garibaldi  ;  and  here  we 
should  stop  to  take  a  look  at  the  outside  of  some  of  the  palaces  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  They  are  but  slightly  Injured  by  time,  and  look 
much  as  they  did  when  they  were  inhabited  by  the  nobles  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  One  of  the  first  things  which  will  strike  some 
of  us  in  regard  to  these  palaces  is  the  total  absence  of  front  doors, 
or  doors  opening  on  the  street.  It  Is  not  the  custom  In  Europe  to 
build  houses  of  any  pretension  with  doors  on  a  public  thoroughfare. 
These  great  Genoese  palaces,  often  five  or  six  stories  high,  are 
built  around  a  central  court,  which  is  entered  by  an  archway  from 
the  street.  Carriages  go  through  this  archway,  and  people  walk 
through   It,   and  they  find  doors    enough  when  they  get  into  the 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  BENDED  KNEE,  23 

court-yard,  which  is  often  large  and  handsome,  and  aidorned  with 
fountains  and  statuary.  The  ground  floor  is  devoted  to  offices,  and 
servants.  On  what  we  would  consider  the  second  story,  but  which 
in  Europe  is  called  the  first  floor,  these  palaces  frequently  contain 
great  picture-galleries,  consisting  of  long  suites  of  rooms  filled  with 
valuable  paintings  ;  and  in  the  third,  fourth,  and  sometimes  even 
in  the  fifth  story,  are  the  domestic  apartments  of  the  family.  These 
palaces  are  as  large  as  our  great  hotels,  and  there  are  no  elevators 
to  take  people  to  the  upper  floors  ;  but  Europeans  do  not  mind 
going  upstairs  ;  and  the  upper  floors  are  often  considered  the  most 
desirable  of  all. 

The  staircases,  which  sometimes  open  from  the  court  and  some- 
times from  the  inside  of  the  building,  are  great  features  of  Genoese 
palaces,  many  of  which  are  worth  going  to  see  simply  on  account 
of  their  grand  and  imposing  stairways,  which  have  been  designed 
by  celebrated  architects.  They  are  always  of  marble  or  stone,  and 
this  fashion  prevails  in  large  houses  all  over  southern  Europe.  An 
Italian  lady  once  said  to  me  that  she  had  heard  a  very  strange 
thing  about  America,  and  that  was  that  our  staircases  were  built 
of  wood  ;  and  when  I  told  her  that  was  the  case,  she  said  she  did 
not  see  how  we  could  ever  be  willing  to  go  to  sleep  in  a  house  with 
wooden  stairways  ;  for,  if  they  were  to  take  fire,  how  could  we  get 
out  ?  Houses  on  the  continent  of  Europe  are  much  safer  than  ours 
in  case  of  fire.  In  Italy  it  is  seldom  that  a  large  dwelling  is  burned 
down  ;  for,  as  walls,  floors,  and  stairs  are  almost  entirely  stone  or 
brick,  there  is  very  little  to  burn. 

We  cannot  go  into  all  the  palaces  in  this  street ;  for,  although 
it  is  quite  short,  it  contains  over  a  dozen  of  them.  Some  of  the 
Genoese  palaces  are  still  occupied  by  members  of  the  noble  fami- 
lies for  whom  they  were  built  in  the  sixteenth  century,  but  visitors 
are  generally  admitted  to  portions  of  all  of  them,    especially  the 


24  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

picture-galleries.  As  we  walk  through  room  after  room  of  these 
immense  edifices,  the  walls  covered  with  valuable  pictures  and  the 
ceilings  painted  by  celebrated  artists,  and  then  mount  grand  stair- 
ways adorned  with  ancient  and  modern  sculptures,  and  find  other 
floors,  and  seemingly  endless  suites  of  other  rooms,  many  of  them 
of  much  beauty  and  magnificence — we  wonder  how  one  family 
could  ever  have  needed  so  many  rooms,  and  so  grand  a  house  that 
must  have  cost  so  much  money.  But  we  must  remember  that 
these  nobles  had  great  numbers  of  servants  and  adherents,  who  all 
lived  in  the  palace  ;  and  they  entertained,  besides,  many  visitors, 
so  that  their  families  were  very  much  larger  than  any  of  those  to 
which  we  are  accustomed,  even  the  very  richest  and  most  important 
of  us.  One  of  the  grandest  palaces  in  this  street  is  now  called  the 
Palazzo  del  Municipio,  for  it  belongs  to  the  city.  Another  magnifi- 
cent one  is  the  Palazzo  Rosso,  so  called  because  it  is  built  of  red 
stone  ;  and  nearly  opposite  is  the  Palazzo  Bianco,  or  white  palace. 

But  the  Via  Garibaldi,  called  in  old  times  the  Via  Nuova,  or 
new  street,  does  not  contain,  by  any  means,  all  the  great  palaces 
of  Genoa.  In  the  Via  Balbi,  near  by,  are  many  of  these  palatial 
buildings,  and,  among  them,  the  Royal  Palace,  which  is  occupied 
by  the  king  and  queen  of  Italy  when  they  happen  to  be  in  Genoa. 
In  the  great  entrance  archway  we  see  some  soldiers  and  a  porter, 
or  custodian,  dressed  in  uniforni  ;  and  if  we  look  as  if  we  would 
give  him  a  franc  when  we  come  out,  this  latter  personage  will 
conduct  us  through  the  palace,  provided,  of  course,  that  the  royal 
owners,  who  usually  reside  in  Rome,  are  not  there.  We  .ill  wish 
to  know  how  kings  and  queens  live,  and  so  we  go  through  the 
rooms  of  this  palace — the  grand  saloons,  and  the  smaller  ones,  the 
dining-halls,  the  queen's  bed-chamber,  and  the  king's  bed-chamber. 
Here  is  the  furniture  they  use,  and  the  beds  they  sleep  on.  Every- 
thing is  very  sumptuous  and  handsome,    but  we  notice  that  the 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  BENDED  KNEE.  25 

king's  bedstead,  which  is  of  iron,  richly  gilt,  looks  old,  with  some 
of  the  ornaments  rubbed  off.  If  King  Humbert  were  one  of  our 
rich  men,  he  would  probably  have  a  new  bedstead  ;  but,  as  he  does 
not  come  very  often  to  Genoa,  he  doubtless  considers  this  good 
enough.  I  think  you  all  will  agree  that  in  this  palace,  as  well  as  in 
many  others,  there  is  nothing  that  seems  to  us  very  cozy  accord- 
ing to  our  ideas  of  such  things.  The  floors  are  of  rich  marble  or 
tiles,  and  the  furniture,  though  magnificent  and  costly,  appears  stiff 
and  too  orderly.  But  in  winter  carpets  and  rugs  are  laid  down, 
no  doubt  ;  and  when  the  king  and  queen  are  here  the  tables  and 
chairs  are  probably  pulled  about  a  little,  and  things  appear  more 
homelike. 

In  the  Pallavacini  Palace,  which  is  even  finer  than  that  of  the 
king,  after  passing  through  a  number  of  stately  apartments,  all 
cold  and  splendid,  we  are  shown  into  a  sitting-room,  occupied  by 
the  family  in  the  afternoons  and  evenings,  which  is  carpeted,  and 
looks  almost  as  comfortable  as  some  of  our  rooms  at  home.  But  a 
wonderful  silver  vase,  by  the  celebrated  Benvenuto  Cellini,  marks 
a  difference  between  this  apartment  and  our  sitting-rooms. 

The  last  palace  we  shall  visit  is  the  Doria  Palace,  the  most 
interesting  in  the  city  ;  and  on  our  way  there  we  meet  a  gentleman 
we  know.  Every  one  of  us  is  acquainted  with  him,  and  we  all  feel 
under  great  obligations  to  him.  He  is  very  tall  and  pale,  but  his 
figure  is  grand  and  imposing,  and  he  stands  up  high,  where  every- 
body can  see  him.  It  is  Christopher  Columbus — and  where  should 
we  Americans  have  been  without  him  !  It  gives  us  a  strange  sen- 
sation, in  this  Italian  city,  with  its  queer  streets  and  tall  palaces 
and  its  unfamiliar  sights  of  every  kind,  to  come  upon  this  statue  of 
good  old  Columbus,  whom  we  have  all  known  so  well  from  our 
earliest  childhood,  and  whom  we  have  been  accustomed  to  look 
upon  somewhat  in  the  light  of  the  grandfather  of  our  country.    The 


26  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

Genoese  think  a  great  deal  of  Columbus — who  was  born  in  this 
neighborhood,  you  may  remember — although  they  did  not  do  much 
for  him  when  he  was  alive.  But  there  are  always  people  who  are 
willinof  to  honor  a  successful  man  after  some  one  else  has  griven  him 
a  chance  to  show  what  he  can  do.  At  the  foot  of  the  statue  is  a 
kneeling  figure  representing  our  country  thanking  Columbus  for 
having  discovered  her;  and  the  whole  stands  in  a  beautiful  open 
square.  There  are  other  mementos  of  Columbus  in  the  city,  and 
in  the  Municipal  Palace  two  of  his  letters  are  preserved. 

At  a  little  distance  stands  the  palace  to  which  we  are  going, 
which  was  presented  by  the  city,  in  the  year  1522,  to  the  famous 
Admiral  Andrea  Doria,  who  by  his  naval  victories  gave  peace  and 
safety  to  Genoa,  and  who  was  called  the  Father  of  his  Country. 
The  admiral  was  not  far  from  sixty  years  old  when  this  grand 
palace  was  presented  to  him,  and  it  might  have  been  supposed  that 
he  would  not  have  many  years  in  which  to  enjoy  it.  But  the  situ- 
ation seems  to  have  agreed  very  well  with  him,  for  he  lived  to  the 
age  of  ninety-five.  This  palace  is  somewhat  different  in  plan  from 
the  others  in  Genoa  ;  and  we  first  enter  a  long  portico,  or  loggia, 
which  looks  out  upon  an  extensive  and  beautiful  garden  with  sum- 
mer-houses. Mountinof  to  the  first  floor,  we  walk  into  the  crreat 
entrance-hall,  on  the  walls  and  ceiling  of  which  are  fresco-paintings 
by  Del  Vaga,  a  famous  pupil  of  Raphael.  We  enter  room  after 
room,  with  the  ceilings  and  walls  covered  with  paintings  and 
decorations;  and  one  of  these,  a  small  apartment,  is  so  painted  as 
to  give  the  idea  that  it  is  partly  in  ruins.  There  are  vacant  places 
in  the  ccilino;  from  which  stones  seem  to  have  tumbled  out,  vines 
creep  through  wide  crevices,  and  on  the  top  of  broken  places  in  the 
walls  there  sit  owls  and  other  birds.  A  person,  not  understanding 
the  fancies  and  freaks  of  old-time  architects  and  artists,  might  be 
a  little  startled  on   enterinor  this  room,  and  mig-ht  imagrinc  that  if 


THE  CITT  OF  THE  BENDED  KNEE.  i'] 

he  shook  the  floor  with  his  tread  the  walls  and  roof  would  come 
tumbling  down  upon  him.  In  an  apartment  called  the  Titan  Hall 
is  a  portrait  of  the  old  admiral  and  his  favorite  cat,  wherein  the 
cat  looks  as  if  she  enjoyed  the  palace  quite  as  much  as  her  master. 
Here,  too,  are  the  chairs  in  which  Doria  used  to  sit,  and  many 
other  articles  of  his  furniture.  On  one  side  of  the  house  is  a  long 
room,  the  outer  wall  of  which  is  of  glass.  Here  the  old  gentle- 
man could  walk  up  and  down  when  the  sun  shone,  and  look  out 
upon  his  great  gardens  and  his  villa,  which  stood  upon  a  terraced 
hill  opposite,  as  well  as  upon  the  beautiful  harbor  of  Genoa,  and 
— at  the  same  time — be  as  comfortable  as  if  he  were  sitting  before 
the  fire.  This  palace  still  belongs  to  members  of  the  admiral's 
family,  but  they  live  in  a  vast  square  palace  in  Rome. 

Opening  froni  one  of  the  piazzas,  or  squares,  which  are  found 
everywhere  in  Genoa,  is  a  little  street  called  a  salzta,  which  is 
probably  different  from  any  street  you  ever  saw  before.  It  is  but 
a  few  feet  wide,  and  consists  of  a  series  of  broad  steps,  paved  with 
cobble-stones,  which  lead  us  downward  for  a  long  distance  to 
a  little  piazza  nearly  surrounded  by  tall  houses,  on  one  side  of 
which  stands  the  small  dark  church  of  San  Matteo.  This  is  where 
old  Admiral  Doria  used  to  go  to  church.  Over  the  altar  hangs 
the  long  sword  he  once  wore,  and  in  a  vault  below  he  is  buried. 
The  little  church  is  filled  with  beautiful  sculptures  and  works  of 
art,  and  on  the  outside  are  many  inscriptions  relating  to  the  Doria 
family,  some  of  whom  attended  service  here  at  least  two  centuries 
before  the  admiral  was  born. 

There  are  a  good  many  churches  in  Genoa,  and  most  of  them 
are  very  different  from  this  dark  little  building.  One  of  them,  the 
Cathedral,  is  a  very  large  and  old  edifice,  built  of  black  and  white 
marble  ;  and  in  it,  carefully  guarded,  is  a  cup  or  vase,  said  to  be 
the  Holy  Grail,  or  the  cup  used  by  Christ  and  his  disciples  at   the 


28  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

Last  Supper.  This  was  captured  in  the  Holy  Land,  by  the 
Genoese,  during  the  Crusades.  People  who  wish  to  believe  that 
this  cup  is  the  Holy  Grail,  do  so,  and  those  who  do  not,  do  not. 
Another  church,  Santa  Annunziata,  which  is  now  attended  by  the 
rich  people  of  Genoa,  is  gorgeously  ornamented,  and  has  the 
greater  portion  of  its  ceiling  covered  with  pure  gold. 

When  we  enter  any  of  these  churches  we  do  not  open  a  door, 
but  are  obliged  to  push  aside  a  corner  of  a  great  heavy  leathern 
curtain,  which  hangs  in  the  doorway.  There  is  always  an  old 
woman  or  a  poor  old  man  to  pull  aside  this  curtain  for  us,  in 
exchange  for  a  copper  ;  and  inside  we  find  a  sacristan,  or  sexton, 
fond  of  a  little  silver,  who  will  show  us  everything  in  the  church. 

Genoa  is,  as  I  have  said,  the  great  commercial  city  of  Italy, 
having  now  outstripped  her  former  rival,  Venice,  in  this  respect ; 
and  the  large  harbor  is  a  very  lively  and  interesting  place.  In 
order  to  see  it  to  the  best  advantage,  we  go  upon  a  broad  marble 
terrace,  built  high  above  the  crowded  streets,  and  extending  for 
half  a  mile  along  the  harbor.  This  terrace,  which  was  constructed 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  the  citizens  a  promenade  by  the  water- 
front, where  they  would  not  be  interfered  with  by  the  crowds  of 
people  and  vehicles  in  that  part  of  the  town,  is  about  forty  feet 
wide,  and  the  floor  is  very  smooth,  so  that  persons  may  often  be 
seen  here  skating  on  roller-skates.  It  is  a  delightful  place  on 
which  to  enjoy  the  fresh  sea-air,  and  to  look  down  on  the  harbor, 
stretching  far  out  before  us,  crowded  with  steamers,  sailing-vessels, 
and  small  boats,  and  shut  in  by  long  moles,  or  walls,  v/ith  light- 
houses on  them. 

Any  one  who  likes  to  see  sailors  can  have  a  fine  opportunity  of 
seeing  them  in  Genoa.  In  the  busy  streets  near  the  harbor  are 
to  be  found  hundreds  of  mariners  from  every  part  of  the  world. 
Here  they  stand  and  sit  about,  and  talk  and  smoke,  and  some  of 


Hlf.fl 


3-  ..^^■^^K  V»«if 


ii,iiiii  i 


VIEW    OF    A    PORTION    OF    GENOA. — THE    CHURCH    OF    SANTA   MARIA    IN   CARIGNANO    AT   THE    SUMMIT. 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  BENDED  KNEE,  3 1 


the  old  fellows  look  as  if  they  had  lived  nearly  as  long  as  the 
famous  admiral  himself.  These  sailors,  many  of  whom  wear  red 
woollen  caps,  and  gay  sashes  around  their  waists,  have  often  a 
piratical  look,  and  it  is  said  that  it  is  not  always  safe  for  strangers 
to  wander  among  them  in  certain  parts  of  the  town.  But  there 
are  so  many  of  us  that  we  can  go  where  we 'please. 

There  are  plenty  of  youngsters,  boys  and  girls,  to  be  seen 
about  the  harbor,  in  which  place  the  idea  probably  came  into  the 
head  of  the  boy  Columbus  that  he  would  like  to  be  a  sailor,  and 
see  what  was  to  be  seen  in  other  parts  of  the  world  ;  and,  for 
aught  we  know,  some  of  the  rough-looking  little  fellows  whom  we 
see  sitting  on  the  posts,  or  running  up  and  down  the  stone  steps 
which,  in  some  places,  lead  to  the  higher  parts  of  the  town,  may 
yet  turn  out  to  be  hardy  navigators.  But  there  are  no  more 
continents  for  them  to  discover — unless,  indeed,  they  go  into  the 
Arctic  or  Antarctic  regions,  where  the  climate,  I  fear,  would  not 
suit  a  Genoese. 

Near  the  marble  terrace,  at  one  end,  is  an  old  building,  which 
used  to  be  considered  one  of  the  most  important  houses  in  the 
world.  It  was  the  bank  of  San  Giorgio,  a  great  banking-house  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  In  the  time  of  the  Crusades  it  furnished  money 
to  the  bold  knights  who  went  out  to  recover  the  Holy  Land  from 
the  Saracens,  and  for  centuries  it  was  a  most  wealthy  and  powerful 
institution.  No  matter  what  happened  to  the  Republic  of  Genoa, 
whether  the  Guelphs  or  the  Ghibellines  were  uppermost,  whether 
she  was  ruled  by  her  own  nobles,  or  doges,  or  whether  outside 
potentates  were  called  in  to  take  part  in  her  government,  the  great 
bank  of  San  Giorgio  always  stood  firm.  It  owned  large  posses- 
sions in  Corsica  and  other  places,  and  there  was  a  time  when 
there  was  reason  to  believe  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  foreign 
wars  it  would  have  acquired  possession  of  the  whole  of  the  little 


32  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

republic.  But  now  the  old  building  is  no  longer  a  bank,  and  the 
great  painting  of  St.  George  on  horseback,  which  adorns  the  wall 
facing  the  sea,  has  been  almost  worn  away  by  the  rain  and  salt 
breezes  of  hundreds  of  years.  It  is  used  as  a  custom-house,  and 
we  can  go  inside  and  see  statues  and  pictures  of  some  of  the 
famous  men  of  Genoa  ;  but  it  is  much  more  interesting,  if  we  can 
do  it,  to  imagine  that  we  see  tall  knights,  with  a  great  cross 
embroidered  on  their  clothes,  comino;  in  to  talk  to  the  officers  of 
the  bank  about  the  money  which  is  to  take  them  to  Jerusalem. 

If  we  wish  to  see  for  ourseh^es  how  Genoa  obtained  its  name, 
we  can  go  to  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  in  Carignano,  a  stately 
edifice  on  a  high  hill,  and  ascend  to  the  upper  part  of  the  great 
dome.  From  this  high  point  we  can  see  the  whole  city  spread  out 
beneath  us — the  surrounding  country,  with  its  hills,  its  groves,  and 
its  villas,  and  a  line  of  fortifications  nine  miles  long,  with  its  forts 
and  ramparts  ;  while,  to  the  south,  the  bright  blue  Mediterranean 
stretches  far  away.  And  when  our  eyes  have  taken  in  all  the 
landscape,  we  see  how  the  water  comes  into  the  land  in  the  shape 
of  the  bended  knee. 

When  we  have  walked  through  the  lively  and  crowded  streets 
of  Genoa ;  when  we  have  been  in  the  small  piazza  in  front  of  the 
Exchange,  filled  with  men,  talking  and  clamoring  about  the  price 
of  stocks  and  that  sort  of  thing  as  earnestly  as  if  they  were  in 
Wall  Street ;  and  when  we  have  visited  the  new  Galleria  Mazzini, 
a  long  passage,  like  a  wide  street,  used  only  by  foot-passengers, 
covered  the  whole  length  by  a  high  roof  of  glass,  and  lined  on 
each  side  by  handsome  shops,  and  altogether  very  agreeable  for  a 
walking  or  shopping  expedition  in  wet  weather — we  will  go  to 
a  place  visited  by  nearly  every  one  who  comes  to  Genoa,  which  is 
not  at  all  lively  or  bustling,  but  very  much  crowded.  This  is  a 
cemetery  called  the  Campo  Santo,  or  Holy  Field. 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  BENDED  KNEE.  33 


The  Campo  Santo  Is  in  some  respects  a  peculiar  cemetery.  One 
thino"  which  makes  it  very  different  from  what  we  expect  to  see  in 
a  city  dating  from  the  Middle  Ages,  such  as  Genoa,  is  that  there 
is  nothin^T  at  all  antiquated  or  old-fashioned  about  it.  It  will  be 
to  US  a  curiosity  of  modern  times. 

This  Campo  Santo  is  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  city,  and 
is  built  in  the  form  of  a  vast  square  court,  with  the  tombs  of  the 
rich  in  raised  galleries  on  the  four  sides,  and  the  graves  of  the  poor 
in  the  flat  ground  in  the  middle.  All  the  galleries  are  built  of 
white  marble,  with  roofs  and  long  lines  of  pillars  ;  and  the  tombs 
are  o-enerally  placed  along  the  inner  side  of  the  galleries,  and  the 
greater  part  of  them  are  surmounted  by  groups  of  life-size  statuary. 
It  is  these  statues,  all  of  them  the  work  of  famous  modern  Italian 
sculptors,  which  give  to  the  place  its  queer  and  peculiar  character. 
Many  of  the  groups  consist  not  only  of  statues  of  the  persons 
buried  in  the  tombs,  but  life-like  figures  of  the  surviving  relatives, 
dressed  in  modern  clothes.  In  one  place  you  will  see  a  father  on 
his  death-bed  ;  his  wife,  dressed  in  the  fashion  of  the  present  day, 
sitting  by  his  side  ;  while  his  son,  a  young  man  in  double-breasted 
sack  coat  and  striped  trousers,  and  a  daughter,  with  a  polonaise 
and  plaited  skirt,  stand  at  the  foot  of  the  couch.  These  figures  are 
so  well  done  that  they  almost  seem  to  be  alive  ;  and  as  the  members 
of  the  family  come  year  after  year  to  the  cemetery,  they  must  be 
content  to  see  the  clothes  they  were  sculptured  in  getting  more 
and  more  old-fashioned.  Some  of  the  designs  are  fine  and  artistic, 
although  to  our  ideas  very  strange.  . 

In  one  part  of  the  grounds  we  perceive  a  young  lady  richly 
attired  in  a  dress  with  a  long  train  trimmed  with  a  double  row  of 
ruffles  and  lace,  and  wearing  a  cape  edged  with  scalloped  lace, 
kneelinof  at  the  foot  of  her  father's  tomb,  while  a  cjrand  and  beauti- 
ful  figure  of  Christ  rises  out  of  some  clouds  just  in  front  of  her, 

3 


34  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

and  with  one  hand  over  the  recumbent  statue  of  her  dead  father, 
and  one  over  her  head,  offers  her  consolation.  In  another  place 
there  is  a  group  of  two  sisters,  who  are  kneeling  by  the  door  of  the 
tomb  of  a  third  sister  ;  the  door  of  the  tomb  is  partly  open,  and  the 
buried  sister,  in  company  with  an  angel  who  holds  her  by  the  hand, 
has  just  come  out  of  it,  and  is  rising  toward  the  sky.  As  these 
figures  are  life  size,  the  effect  is  very  striking.  Close  to  this  tomb 
is  one  which  is  planned  upon  an  entirely  different  idea  :  a  large  old 
angel,  with  a  long  beard  and  a  very  grim  and  severe  countenance, 
is  sitting  solemnly  upon  a  closed  tomb.  His  expression  gives  one 
the  idea  that  he  has  looked  around  upon  the  young  lady  who  has 
been  liberated  by  the  angel,  and  that  he  has  said  to  himself  :  "  The 
person  in  the  tomb  on  which  I  am  sitting  need  not  expect  to  get 
out  until  the  proper  time  comes."  There  is  no  doubt  that  these 
groups  are  considered  very  appropriate  monuments  to  deceased 
friends  and  relatives  by  those  who  have  placed  them  there,  but 
some  of  them  cannot  fail  to  strike  Americans  as  strange  and  odd. 
Some  of  the  monuments,  however,  are  very  beautiful,  without 
any  of  these  queer  fancies,  and  there  are  many  portrait-statues 
of  deceased  persons.  One  of  these  is  a  figure  of  an  old  woman, 
exactly  life  size,  who  was  known  in  Genoa  as  a  great  friend  of 
the  poor.  She  used  to  carry  them  bread  and  other  things  which 
they  needed  ;  and  she  is  here  represented  wearing  the  dress  in  which 
she  walked  about  the  town,  and  carrying  a  loaf  of  bread  in  her 
hand.  The  statue  was  ordered  by  her  before  her  death,  and  she 
was  very  careful  to  have  it  made  precisely  like  her  ;  her  gown, 
her  stiffly-starched  clean  apron,  iier  cap,  and  the  material  and 
pattern  of  her  shawl  and  all  lier  clothes  are  exactly  imitated. 
Altogether,  she  is  one  of  the  most  life-like  old  women  in  marble 
that  you  are  ever  likely  to  see.  In  contrast  with  this  statue  is  a 
beautiful  marble    figure  of  a  little    child,  lightly  dressed,  who    ig 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  BENDED  KNEE.  35 


Stepping  with  an  airy  tread  above  a  mass  of  flowers.  The  action 
is  so  free  and  graceful,  and  her  expression  so  lovely  and  natural, 
that  her  parents,  when  they  come  here,  must  think  they  see  their 
little  daughter  bounding  out  to  meet  them. 

On  the  side  of  the  great  square  opposite  the  entrance  to  the 
cemetery  is  a  large  circular  chapel  with  a  lofty  dome.  It  is 
approached  by  a  flight  of  steps,  and  presents  an  imposing  appear- 
ance. The  interior  of  this  white  marble  edifice  is  very  handsome, 
the  dome  being  supported  by  great  columns  of  black  marble,  each 
cut  out  of  a  single  block.  But  the  most  charming  thing  in  this 
building  is  a  wonderful  echo.  The  man  who  shows  the  place 
to  visitors  stands  under  the  dome,  and  sings  a  few  notes  ;  in  a 
moment  these  are  repeated,  clear  and  loud,  from  the  expanse 
above.  The  effect  is  so  fine  that  we  make  him  go  through  the 
performance  over  and  over  again. 

About  five  miles  from  the  city  is  the  celebrated  Villa  Pallavicini, 
which  is  considered  one  of  the  great  sights  of  Genoa.  We  can 
go  to  the  place  by  a  line  of  horse-cars,  which  here  have  the  Eng- 
lish name  of  "  tramways."  In  many  parts  of  the  continent  of 
Europe,  where  horse-cars  are  now  quite  common,  this  English 
word  has  been  adopted  ;  and,  if  it  has  no  other  good  effect,  it 
may  teach  the  French  the  use  of  the  letter  W,  which  is  not  recog- 
nized in  their  language.  The  villa  belongs  to  a  rich  and  powerful 
Italian  family,  and  visitors  are  allowed  to  see  it.  When  we  reach 
the  great  gate  we  apply  at  the  porter's  lodge  for  a  guide,  for  people 
are  not  permitted  to  go  about  the  grounds  alone.  After  walking 
up  a  broad  avenue,  we  enter  another  gate,  and  soon  come  to  the 
house,  a  beautiful  and  spacious  edifice,  with  marble  porticos,  and 
terraces.  A  few  richly  furnished  rooms  are  shown,  but,  as  the  Palla- 
vicini family  reside  here  part  of  the  year,  we  cannot  see  the  whole 
pf  the  house.      But  it  is  not  the  princely  residence  that  we  come  to 


0 


6  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


see  :  it  is  the  extensive  pleasure-grounds  around  the  house,  which 
are  planned  in  a  manner  very  different  from  anything  to  which  we 
are  accustomed.  These  grounds,  which  lie  on  a  hill  above  the 
house,  are  very  beautiful,  and  are  crowded  with  all  sorts  of  imita- 
tions of  natural  objects,  with  queer  and  ingenious  devices  of  many 
kinds,  as  well  as  with  most  lovely  groups  of  flowers  and  plants  ; 
while  a  great  variety  of  evergreens  and  other  trees  are  so  arranged 
as  to  give  the  grounds  the  appearance  of  a  wood,  although  they  are 
placed  with  such  skill  that  the  sun  is  by  no  means  always  shut  out. 
As  we  walk  along  the  winding  paths  leading  up  the  hill,  we  see 
great  masses  of  camellias,  oleanders,  roses,  azaleas,  and  other  rich 
flowers;  some  of  the  camellias  being  as  large  as  small  trees.  Plants 
from  every  part  of  the  world  are  to  be  found  here — coffee,  tea, 
vanilla,  sugar-cane,  camphor,  and  even  specimens  of  the  cork-tree. 
But  we  shall  see  that  the  person  who  designed  these  grounds  had 
an  eye  for  the  queer  and  surprising  as  well  as  for  the  beautiful. 

The  walk  through  the  grounds  will  occupy  us  about  two  hours, 
and  we  shall  see  something  novel  at  every  turn.  Speaking  of  turns, 
there  are  swings  which  revolve  like  great  wheels  instead  of  merely 
going  backward  and  forward,  and  in  which  we  can  take  a  turn  if  we 
choose.  Near  these  is  a  handsome  little  marble  edifice,  built  on 
the  occasion  of  a  visit  that  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa  made  to 
this  villa. 

When  we  get  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  we  see  a  castle,  strongly 
fortified,  but  which  appears  to  have  been  somewhat  damaged. 
These  damages  are  all  artificial,  and  the  castle  was  built  to  look  as 
if  it  had  sustained  a  siege.  All  about  are  evidences  of  the  great 
fight  which  never  took  place.  Near  by  are  a  number  of  graves 
which  are  intended  to  represent  the  resting-places  of  the  men  (who 
never  existed)  who  fell  during  the  siege.  Among  them  is  the 
handsome  mausoleum  of  the  imaginary  commandant  of  the  castle, 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  BENDED  KAEE.  37 

who  died  an  imaginary  death  during  the  imaginary  conlhct.  The 
person  who  planned  these  make-believe  vestiges  of  war,  which  cost 
a  great  deal  of  money,  must  have  had  an  odd  idea  of  making  a 
place  interesting.  We  can  go  into  the  castle,  and  from  the  tower 
we  have  a  grand  view  of  the  sea  and  the  country,  as  well  as  of  the 
Pallavicini  estate,  which  extends  for  a  great  distance. 

Coming  down  the  other  side  of  the  hill,  we  reach  a  grotto, 
which  is  entirely  artificial,  but  with  real  stalactites  and  stalagmites, 
broueht  from  real  caverns,  and  all  arrano^ed  in  the  most  natural 
manner  ;  with  a  subterranean  lake,  over  which  we  are  taken  in 
boats.  On  this  side  of  the  hill  is  a  wide  and  lovely  landscape- 
garden  containing  several  lakes,  one  of  which  is  quite  large.  As 
we  walk  along,  we  see  some  ordinary  swings,  and  if  we  sit  down 
in  one  of  them,  a  jet  of  water  sends  a  fine  shower  all  over  us.  In 
another  place,  in  passing  through  an  open  path,  and  the  sun  shining 
brightly  above  us,  we  find  ourselves  in  a  sudden  shower  of  rain  ; 
this  is  occasioned  by  our  stepping  on  a  concealed  spring  in  the 
path,  which  immediately  surrounds  us  with  thin  high  jets  of  water, 
which  fall  in  sparkling  drops  upon  us.  There  are  other  tricks  of 
this  kind,  and  they  must  have  been  very  amusing  at  first  to  the 
Pallavicinis,  although  I  do  not  believe  they  asked  the  Empress 
Maria  Theresa  to  sit  down  in  one  of  the  squirting  swings.  The 
large  lake  is  very  beautifully  arranged,  wide  in  some  places  and 
narrow  in  others,  with  all  sorts  of  curves  and  bends,  and  with  pretty 
little  bridges  crossing  it  at  different  places.  We  can  get  into 
boats,  and  be  rowed  all  over  it,  passing  under  the  bridges  among 
little  islands,  and  into  the  shade  of  the  beautiful  trees  which  line 
its  banks,  some  of  them  drooping  their  graceful  branches  into  the 
water.  In  some  places  the  banks  are  rich  with  flowers,  and  every- 
thing is  planned  to  look  as  natural  as  possible.  In  the  centre  of 
the   widest  part  of   the   lake   stands    an  exquisite    marble    temple 


o 


8  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


surrounded  by  columns,  and  containing  a  statue  of  the  goddess 
Diana.  Some  of  you  will  think  this  Grecian  temple  the  prettiest 
thinor  in  the  whole  g^rounds. 

We  will  now  leave  the  villa,  with  its  beauties,  its  queer  sur- 
prises, and  its  imitations ;  and  we  must  also  leave  the  bright, 
bustling,  and  interesting  city  of  Genoa,  with  a  hope  that  never 
aofain  will  it  be  obliofed  to  bend  the  knee  to  a  foreign  foe  or  a 
domestic  disturber  of  its  peace  and  prosperity. 


III. 


LITTLE    PISA    AND    GREAT    ROME. 


C A.VING  Genoa  behind  us,  we  will  now  pursue  our  journey  into 
other  parts  of  Italy,  and  in  so  doing-  we  shall  find  that  the 
various  portions  of  this  charming  country  differ  greatly  from 
one  another.  The  reason  for  this  variety  in  manners,  customs,  and 
even  the  appearance  of  people  and  cities,  is  easily  understood  when 
we  remember  that  the  great  towns  of  Italy  were  once  independent 
powers,  each  governing  not  only  the  country  around  it,  but  often 
holding  sway  over  large  territories  in  other  parts  of  the  world. 
It  is  only  in  late  years,  indeed,  that  all  the  various  portions  of  Italy 
have  been  united  into  one  kingdom. 

*  We  are  going  to  Rome,  but  on  the  way  we  shall  stop  at  Pisa, 
because  every  boy  and  girl  who  has  ever  studied  geography  will 
want  to  know  if  //  is  standing  yet,  and  if  there  is  likely  to  be  a 
great  tumble  and  crash  while  we  are  there.  There  is  no  need  of 
mentioning  what  //  is,  for  every  one  knows  that  there  is  nothing 
in  the  world  so  tall,  which  at  the  same  time  leans  over  so  much. 
As  the  whale  is  the  king  of  fishes,  and  the  elephant  the  king  of 
beasts,  so  is  it  the  king  of  all  things  which  threaten  to  fall  over, 
and  do  not. 

The  scenery  between  Genoa  and  Pisa  is  very  beautiful,  lying 
along  that  lovely  coast  of  the  Mediterranean  called  the  Riviera  di 
Levante  ;  but  there  are  reasons  why  we  shall  not  enjoy  it  as  much 
as  we  would  like.  These  reasons  are  eighty  in  number,  and  con- 
sist of  tunnels,  some  long  and    some   short,    and  all   very   uncere- 


40  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

monious  in  the  suddenness  with  which  they  cut  off  a  view.  As 
soon  as  we  sight  a  queer  old  stone  town,  or  a  Httle  village  sur- 
rounded by  lemon  groves,  or  a  stretch  of  blue  sea  at  the  foot  of 
olive-covered  mountains,  everything  is  instantly  extinguished,  and 
we  sit  in  the  dark  ;  then  there  is  another  view  which  is  just  as 
quickly  cut  off,  and  so  this  amusement  goes  on  for  the  whole  dis- 
tance, which  is  only  a  little  over  a  hundred  miles.  There  is  an 
old  story,  once  told  to  a  story-loving  king,  about  an  immense 
barn,  filled  to  the  top  with  wheat,  and  a  vast  swarm  of  locusts. 
There  was  a  little  hole  in  the  roof,  and  first  one  locust  went  in  and 
took  a  grain  of  wheat,  and  then  another  took  a  grain,  and  after 
that  another  one  took  a  grain,  and  then  another  locust  took  another 
grain,  and  then  the  next  locust  took  a  grain,  and  so  on  for  ever  so 
long  ;  until  the  king  jumped  up  in  a  passion  and  cried  out  : 

"Stop  that  story  !  Take  my  daughter,  and  marry  her,  and  let 
us  hear  no  more  of  those  dreadful  locusts." 

The  tunnels  on  the  road  between  Genoa  and  Pisa  remind  one 
very  much  of  that  locust  story. 

If  the  city  of  Pisa  had  been  built  for  the  convenience  of  visitors, 
it  could  not  have  been  better  planned.  There  are  four  things  in 
the  town  that  are  worth  coming  to  see,  and  these  all  are  placed 
close  together,  in  one  corner;  so  that  tourists  can  stop  here  For 
a  few  hours,  see  the  Pisan  wonders  without  the  necessity  of 
running  all  over  town  to  find  them,  and  then  go  on  their  way. 
Like  every  one  else,  then,  we  will  go  directly  to  the  northwest 
corner  of  the  city,  and  the  first  thing  we  shall  see  will  be  the 
great  Leaning  Tower  of  Pisa.  Every  one  of  us  will  admit,  I  am 
very  sure,  that  it  leans  cpiite  as  much  as  we  expected,  and  at  first 
the  girls  will  not  wish  to  stand  on  that  side  <3f  it  where  they  can 
look  up  and  see  the  tall  structure  leaning  over  them  ;  but,  as  the 
tower  has  stood  there  for  over  five  hundred   years  without  falling, 


LITTLE  PISA    AND   GREAT  ROME.  41 

we  need  not  be  afraid  of  it  now.  You  all  have  seen  pictures  of  it, 
and  know  how  it  looks,  with  its  many  circular  galleries,  one  above 
another,  each  surrounded  by  a  row  of  columns.  But  none  of  us 
have  any  idea  what  a  queer  thing  it  is  to  ascend  this  tower  until 
we  try  it.  Inside,  a  winding  stone  staircase  leads  to  the  top,  and 
although  the  tower  is  one  hundred  and  seventy-nine  feet  high,  and 
there  are  two  hundred  and  ninety-four  steps,  young  legs  will  not 
hesitate  to  make  the  ascent.  If  there  is  any  trouble,  it  will  be 
with  the  heads  ;  but,  as  the  stairway  is  enclosed  on  all  sides,  there 
is    no    dan- 


ger.     The  ffl  .   j,^^^^£t^ 


■Sat,^ 


rPVit^ 


A    DISTANT    VltvV    OF    PISA. 


steps  wind,  ^^-^^S^^^^^^^^ai *_ ^  ^_l^  '^'^'^^^^.i^^^fe- 
but      they 
also  incline 

quite  a  good  deal,  so  that 
one  always  feels  a  slight 
disposition  to  slip  to  one 
side.  At  each  story  there 
is  a  doorway,  so  that  we 
can     go    out     upon    the 

open  galleries.  Here  there  is  danger,  if  we  are  not  careful. 
When  we  are  on  the  upper  side  of  the  gallery,  it  is  all  very  well, 
because  the  floor  slants  toward  the  building,  and  we  can  lean 
back  and  look  about  us  quite  comfortably.  But  when  we  go  around 
to  the  lower  side,  we  feel  as  if  we  were  just  about  to  slide  off  the 
smooth  marble  floor  of  the  gallery,  which  is  only  a  few  feet  wide, 
and  that  the  whole  concern  would  come  down  after  us.  Nervous 
people  generally  keep  off  the  lower  sides  of  the  galleries,  which 
have  no  protection  except  the  pillars,  and  these  do  not  stand  very 
close  together.  This  tall  edifice  was  built  for  a  campanile,  or  bell- 
tower,  for  the  cathedral  close  by ;  and  when  we  reach  the   top  we 


42  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

find  the  great  bells  hanging  in  their  places.  One  of  these  is  an 
enormous  fellow  weighing  six  tons,  and  you  will  notice  that  it  is 
not  hune  on  the  lower  or  overhano;ino;  side  of  the  tower,  but  well 
over  on  the  other  side,  so  as  not  to  give  the  building  any  help  in 
toppling  over  if  it  should  feel  more  inclined  to  do  so.  The  view 
from  the  top  is  an  extended  one,  showing  us  a  great  deal  of  very 
beautiful  Italian  country  ;  but  the  main  object  with  most  of  us  for 
climbing  to  the  belfry  is  to  have  the  novel  experience  of  standing 
on  a  lofty  tower  which  leans  thirteen  feet  from  the  perpendicular. 
There  is  a  railing  up  there,  and  we  can  safely  look  over.  On  the 
overhanging  side  we  can  see  nothing  below  us  but  the  ground. 
The  bottom  of  the  wall  is  not  only  far  beneath  us,  but  thirteen  feet 
behind  us.  On  the  opposite,  or  higher,  side  we  see  the  pillars  and 
galleries  sloping  away  beneath  us.  It  was  on  the  lower  side  of 
this  belfry  that  Galileo  carried  on  some  of  his  experiments.  There 
could  not  be  a  better  place  from  which  to  hang  a  long  pendulum. 
Many  people  think  that  the  inclined  position  of  this  famous  tower 
is  due  to  accident,  and  that  the  foundations  on  one  side  have  sunk. 
But  others  believe  that  it  was  built  in  this  way,  and  I  am  inclined 
to  agree  with  them.  There  are  quite  a  number  of  leaning  towers 
in  Italy  ;  the  one  in  Bologna  being  a  good  deal  higher  than  this 
of  Pisa,  although  it  leans  only  four  feet.  They  all  were  probably 
constructed  according  to  a  whimsical  architectural  fashion  of  the 
time,  for  it  is  not  likely  that  of  all  the  buildings  these  towers  only 
should  have  leaned  over  in  this  way,  and  that  none  of  them  should 
ever  have  settled  so  much  as  to  fall. 

The  great  white  marble  cathedral  close  by  is  seven  hundred 
years  old.  The  front,  or  facade,  is  celebrated  for  its  beautiful  col- 
umns and  galleries,  and  inside  there  are  a  great  many  interesting 
things  to  see — such  as  old  paintings,  mosaics,  and  carvings,  and  two 
rows  of  sixty-eight  ancient  Greek  and   Roman  columns  which  sup- 


LITTLE   PLSA    AND    GREAT  ROME.  43 


port  the  roof,  and  were  captured  by  the  Pisans  when  they  had  a 
^reat  fleet,  and  used  to  conquer  other  countries  and  carry  away 
spoils.  But  there  is  one  object  here  which  has  been  of  as  much 
value  to  us,  and  to  every  one  else  in  the  world,  as  it  ever  was  to 
the  Italians.  This  is  a  hanging  bronze  lamp,  suspended  by  a  very 
long  chain  from  the  middle  of  the  roof.  It  was  the  swinging  of 
this  very  lamp  which  gave  to  Galileo  the  idea  of  the  pendulum. 

Near  the  cathedral  stands  the  famous  baptistery,  which  is  a 
circular  building  with  two  rows  of  columns  supporting  a  beautiful 
dome,  the  top  of  which  is  higher  than  the  great  bell-tower.  The 
two  most  notable  things  inside  are  the  wonderful  echo,  which  we 
all  shall  wish  to  hear,  and  a  famous  pulpit,  covered  with  beautiful 
sculptures  by  the  celebrated  Niccolo  Pisano,  or  Nicholas  of  Pisa 
as  we  should  call  him. 

The  last  one  of  this  quartet  of  Pisan  objects  of  interest  is  the 
Campo  Santo,  or  cemetery.  This  is  so  entirely  different  from  the 
one  at  Genoa  that  we  shall  take  the  greater  interest  in  it  from 
having  seen  that.  The  first  was  modern,  and  nearly  all  the  statues 
were  dressed  in  handsome  clothes  of  late  fashions ;  but  here  every- 
thing is  very  old,  the  great  square  building  with  an  open  space 
in  the  centre  having  been  finished  six  hundred  years  ago.  The 
crusaders  who  went  from  Pisa  to  the  Holy  Land  hoped,  when  they 
died,  to  be  buried  in  Palestine.  But,  as  the  Crusades  failed,  they 
could  not  make  a  Campo  Santo  there  ;  but  they  brought  back  with 
them  fifty-three  ship-loads  of  earth  from  Mount  Calvary,  and  this 
they  placed  in  their  cemetery  of  Pisa,  in  order  that  they  might, 
after  all,  be  buried  in  holy  soil.  And  here  they  lie  now.  The  inner 
walls  of  the  great  quadrangle,  which  is  separated  from  the  central 
space  by  open  arches  and  columns,  are  covered  with  enormous 
paintings,  very  old  and  very  queer,  representing  the  Triumph  of 
Death,  the   Last    Judgment,  and   subjects   of  this   kind,  treated   in 


44  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

the  odd  way  which  was  the  fashion  among  painters  centuries  ago. 
There  are  sculptures,  ancient  sarcophagi,  and  funeral  tablets  ranged 
along  the  walls,  and  the  pavement  on  which  we  walk  is  covered 
with  inscriptions  showing  what  persons  are  buried  beneath  it.  Many 
of  these  people  bear  to  us,  in  point  of  time,  the  same  relation  that 
we  shall  bear  to  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  twenty-fifth  century. 

There  is  not  much  else  to  see  in  the  city  of  Pisa.  It  is  a  quiet 
place,  and  nearly  all  the  noise  is  made  by  the  women,  who  walk 
about  in  their  absurd  shoes  ;  these  are  slippers  formed  of  a  sole,  a 
very  high  and  hard  heel,  and  a  little  place  into  which  to  slip  the 
toes.  Every  time  a  woman  makes  a  step  the  whole  of  her  foot, 
except  the  ends  of  her  toes,  leaves  the  shoe,  the  heel  of  which  comes 
clanking  upon  the  pavement.  How  they  manage  to  keep  their 
shoes  on,  as  the)-  walk  about,  I  cannot  imagine  ;  and  the  continual 
clinking  and  clanking  of  the  heels  on  the  stone  pavements  make  a 
very  lively  racket. 

But  there  was  a  time  when  this  city  made  a  good  deal  more 
noise  in  the  world  than  that  produced  by  the  shoes  of  its  women. 
It  was  a  powerful  maritime  power;  its  ships  conquered  the  Sara- 
cens right  and  left  ;  it  took  possession  of  Corsica,  Sardinia,  and 
other  Mediterranean  islands,  and  owned  a  large  portion  of  the 
Italian  coast,  and  played  a  very  important  part  in  the  Crusades. 
But  its  power  graduall)-  declined,  and  in  1406  it  was  actually  sold 
to  the  city  of  Florence,  to  which  it  belonged  for  a  long,  long  time. 
What  thing  more  humiliating  could  happen  to  a  city  than  to  be 
sold — houses,  men,  women,  and  children — to  a  master  which  it 
did  not  like  ! 

There  are  no  tunnels  on  the  road  between  Pisa  and  Rome  ;  but 
then,  on  the  other  hand,  the  scenery  is  not  very  interesting.  The 
railroad  follows  very  nearly  the  line  of  a  road  built  by  the  Romans 
one  hundred   and   nine  years  before  the   Christian  era.      It  passes 


LITTLE  PISA    AND    GREA  T  ROME.  45 


through  the  Maremme,  or  salt-marshes,  a  vast  extent  of  forest  and 
swamp -land.  It  is  so  unhealthy  in  summer  time  that  it  is  deserted 
by  all  its  inhabitants,  who  go  off  to  the  hills. 

It  is  a  nine-hours'  trip  from  Pisa  to  Rome — for  railroad  trains  in 
Italy  are  very  slow — and  it  is  dark  when  we  reach  that  great  and 
wonderful  city.  Not  many  years  ago  no  railroad  came  into  Rome, 
and  visitors  arrived  in  carriages  and  stage-coaches  ;  but  now  we  roll 
into  a  lone,  elass-roofed  station,  and  outside  there  are  hotel  omni- 
buses  and  carriages  waiting  for  the  passengers.  The  ideas  which 
most  of  us  have  formed  of  the  city  of  Romulus  and  Remus  have 
no  association  with  such  a  thing  as  a  hotel  omnibus  ;  and  as  we  roll 
away  through  street  after  street,  lighted  by  occasional  lamps,  we 
see  nothine  through  the  omnibus  windows  which  reminds  us  at  all 
01  Julius  Caesar  or  Cicero.  But,  as  we  turn  a  corner  into  a  large, 
well-lighted  space,  we  see  something  which  we  know,  from  pictures 
and  descriptions,  to  belong  in  Rome,  and  nowhere  else.  It  is 
the  famous  fountain  of  Trevi,  built  up  high  against  the  end  of 
a  palace,  with  its  wide  sparkling  pond  of  water  in  front  of  it,  its 
marble  sea-horses  with  their  struggling  attendants,  the  great  figure 
of  Neptune  sitting  above  all,  and  its  many  jets  of  water  spouting 
in  fountains  and  flowing  in  cascades.  The  fountain  itself  is  not 
very  ancient,  but  the  water  was  conducted  from  a  spring  fourteen 
miles  away  to  this  spot  by  our  friend  Agrippa,  who  built  the  Pont 
du  Gard  which  we  saw  near  Avignon.  Now  we  feel  that  we  are  in 
Rome,  in  spite  of  the  omnibus. 

We  do  not  intend  to  see  Rome  according  to  any  fixed  plan 
founded  on  the  study  of  history,  art,  or  anything  else.  We  shall 
take  things  as  they  come,  see  all  we  can,  and  enjoy  the  life  of  to-day 
as  well  as  the  ruins  and  the  art  treasures  of  bygone  centuries.  On 
rainy  days  we  shall  wander  beneath  good  roofs  in  the  palaces,  the 
galleries,  the  churches  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  present;  and  in 


46  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

fair  weather  we  shall  walk  among  the  palaces  and  temples  of  the 
Caesars,  which  have  no  roof  at  all. 

There  are  three  cities  to  be  seen  in  Rome  :  the  Rome  of  to-day, 
the  Rome  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  ancient  Rome  ;  each  very  dis- 
tinct from  the  others,  and  yet  all,  in  a  measure,  mingled  together. 
I  lived  for  some  months  in  a  portion  of  the  city  where  the  street 
was  broad  and  well  paved,  with  wide  sidewalks ;  where  the  houses 
were  tall  and  new,  with  handsome  shops  in  many  of  them  ;  where 
street-cars  ran  up  and  down  every  few  minutes,  and  most  of  the 
passers-by  wore  hats,  coats,  and  dresses  just  like  the  people  to 
whom  I  had  always  been  accustomed — and  this  street  continually 
reminded  me  of  some  of  the  new  avenues  in  the  upper  part  of  New 
York.  But  if  I  went  around  a  corner,  and  down  a  broad  fiiofht  of 
steps,  I  saw  before  me  a  lofty  marble  column,  nearly  a  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  high,  around  which  winds  a  long,  spiral  procession  of  more 
than  two  thousand  sculptured  warriors,  with  their  chariots  and 
engines  of  war,  and  beneath  which  lies  buried  the  great  Emperor 
Trajan.  There  is  nothing  about  that  to  remind  any  one  of  New 
York.  Rome  possesses  but  one  of  these  broad,  wide  avenues,  with 
horse- cars  running  through  it,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  streets 
are  as  narrow  and  crooked  as  it  was  the  fashion  in  mediaeval  times 
to  make  them.  The  ancient  streets,  within  the  city,  are  only  to  be 
seen  where  excavations  have  been  made,  for  the  Rome  of  to-day 
stands  on  many  feet  of  soil  which  has  accumulated  over  the  city  of 
the  Caesars. 

Nearly  every  one  who  comes  to  Rome  wishes  to  go,  as  soon 
as  possible,  to  the  Colosseum,  which  is  rightfully  considered  the 
greatest  wonder  of  the  city,  and  one  of  the  greatest  wonders  of  the 
world.  Let  us  leave  for  a  time  the  street-cars,  the  shops,  and 
the  life  of  modern  Rome,  and  put  ourselves  in  the  places  of  the  old 
patricians  and  plebeians,  and  try  to  get  an  idea  of  the  sort  of  sport 


LITTLE  PISA    AND    GREAT  ROME.  47 

they  used  to  have.  We  shall  find  a  great  part  of  the  massive  walls 
of  this  largest  place  of  amusement  ever  built  still  standing.  In 
fact,  more  than  one-half  of  it  is  gone,  but  so  much  remains  that  we 
can  scarcely  understand  that  this  is  so.  The  form  of  the  monster 
building  is  elliptical,  and  one  side  still  reaches  to  its  original  height 
of  four  stories,  and,  even  in  its  most  broken  parts,  portions  of  the 
second  story  remain.  Thus  we  still  see  just  what  sort  of  building 
it  was.  It  contained  seats  for  eighty-seven  thousand  spectators. 
All  the  inhabitants  of  three  cities  of  the  present  size  of  Pisa  could 
congregate  here,  and  yet  there  would  be  room  enough  left  for  the 
people  of  nine  small  towns  of  a  thousand  citizens  each  ;  and  all 
these  people  would  not  encroach  on  the  room  required  for  the  great 
number  of  attendants,  gladiators,  and  all  sorts  of  persons  necessary 
to  carry  on  the  games.  It  was  built  in  the  early  part  of  the  Chris- 
tian era,  when  Rome  was  still  a  pagan  city.  The  opening  perform- 
ance was  a  grand  one,  lasting  one  hundred  days,  and  I  suppose  that 
every  Roman — man,  woman,  and  child — came  to  the  Colosseum 
on  at  least  one  of  these  days,  and  very  many  of  them  probably 
attended  every  day.  The  greater  part  of  the  entertainment  con- 
sisted of  gladiatorial  combats,  in  which  these  men  fought  not  only 
each  other,  but  wild  beasts.  I  do  not  know  how  many  gladiators 
lost  their  lives  durino-  the  inauguration  of  the  new  buildinfr,  but 
more  than  five  thousand  wild  animals  were  killed  in  the  hundred 
days.  At  that  time  hunters  were  always  at  work  in  Africa  and 
Asia  catching  wild  animals  for  the  Colosseum.  Lions,  tigers  and 
leopards,  elephants,  giraffes,  and,  after  a  time,  even  rhinoceroses 
were  brouofht  here  to  be  foutrht  and  killed.  Wild  animals  were 
much  more  plentiful  then  than  they  are  now,  when  it  is  a  very 
expensive  and  difficult  thing  to  get  up  even  a  small  menagerie. 
The  arena  where  the  games  were'  held  was  a  vast  smooth  space, 
surrounded  by  the  great  galleries,  which  rose  in  four  tiers  above  it. 


48  PERSOXALLY  COXDUCTED. 

the  top  being  open  to  the  sky.  This  space  was  temporarily  planted 
by  one  of  the  emperors  with  hundreds  of  trees,  so  as  to  resemble  a 
small  forest,  and  into  this  were  let  loose  great  numbers  of  deer, 
antelopes,  hares,  and  game  of  that  kind  ;  and  then  the  spectators 
were  allowed  to  go  down  into  tlie  arena  with  their  bows,  arrows, 
and  spears,  to  hunt  the  animals.  At  other  times,  the  whole  of  the 
arena  was  flooded  with  water  so  as  to  make  it  into  a  lake,  upon  which 
were  launched  ships  filled  with  soldiers,  and  naval  contests  took 
place.  The  Romans  had  grander  ideas  of  amusements  than  any 
people  before  or  since,  and  they  stopped  at  no  expense  or  trouble 
when  they  wished  to  organize  a  great  show.  Most  of  their  enter- 
tainments were  of  a  very  cruel  character,  and  we  all  know  how 
thousands  of  Christian  martyrs  were  sacrificed  in  this  arena,  and 
how  thousands  of  gladiators,  who  fought  one  another  and  wild 
beasts,  perished  here  simply  to  amuse  the  people. 

When  we  enter  upon  this  open  arena,  we  see  that  nearly  half 
of  it  has  been  excavated,  exposing  a  great  number  of  walls  and 
arches,  down  into  which  we  can  look,  as  into  deep  cellars.  These 
extend  under  the  whole  of  the  arena,  and  were  not  only  used  as 
passage-ways  for  men  and  wild  beasts,  but  were  necessary  for  the 
working  of  the  machinery,  the  trap-doors,  and  other  contrivances 
used  in  the  games.  In  some  places  we  can  see  the  grooves  in 
which  a  sort  of  elevator  was  worked.  The  savage  beasts  were 
driven  through  a  narrow  alley  into  the  box  of  this  elevator,  then 
they  were  suddenly  shot  up  out  of  a  trap-door  into  the  open  air, 
where  there  was  always  something  ready  for  them  to  do.  In 
other  places  there  are  inclined  planes,  up  which  the  animals  came, 
and  iron  bars,  still  stout  and  strong,  behind  which  they  stood 
"■larinu;  until  it  was  time  for  th(.Mii  to  come  out.  There  were  great 
entrances  for  the  emperor  and  the  nobles  ;  and  all  around  the 
outside    there   were   eighty    archways,    through   which    the    people 


LITTLE  PISA    AND   GREAT  ROME.  49 

came  in.  Each  of  these  entrances  was  numbered,  so  that  the 
people  could  easily  find  their  way  to  the  different  portions  of  the 
galleries  to  which  they  had  tickets.  We  can  still  plainly  see 
the  numbers  from  twenty-three  to  fifty-four.  Many  of  the  ancient 
staircases  leading  to  the  galleries  yet  exist,  though  they  are  very 
much  worn  and  broken,  and  are  not  now  used  ;  but  some  of  them 
have  been  restored  to  very  nearly  their  former  appearance,  so  that 
we  can  go  up  to  the  highest  gallery.  The  poorer  people  sat  in 
the  topmost  row,  and,  long  before  we  are  up  there,  we  shall  feel 
sure  that  this  class  of  spectators  was  willing  to  do  a  great  deal  of 
hard  climbing  for  the  sake  of  seeing  the  shows.  The  stairways 
in  use  among  the  Romans  had  very  high  steps,  much  higher  than 
those  in  use  in  our  day,  and  the  restorations  have  been  made  as 
much  like  the  old  stairs  as  possible.  Many  of  us  win^:)e  surprised 
not  to  find  the  Colosseum  a  mass  of  ruins,  encumbered  with  the 
rubbish,  and  overgrown  with  vines  and  the  moss  of  ages.  Instead 
of  this,  everything  is  in  excellent  order  ;  the  arena,  where  it  has 
not  been  dug  away,  is  smooth  and  clean,  and  the  pieces  of  marble 
and  broken  columns  are  piled  up  neatly  about  the  sides  ;  the 
galleries  are  all  clear  and  open  to  visitors,  and  there  are  railings 
where  the  parapets  have  been  broken.  We  can  fearlessly  walk 
over  all  the  parts  that  are  left  standing,  and  can  pass  through  the 
great  vaulted  passages  which  extend  behind  the  long  tiers  of  seats, 
and  then  we  can  go  out  upon  the  open  galleries. 

The  Colosseum  does  not  owe  its  present  state  of  partial  ruin  to 
the  ravages  of  time.  It  was  built  to  stand  for  very  many  centuries. 
In  the  Middle  A^-es  it  was  used  as  a  fortress,  and  was  still  strone 
and  in  comparatively  good  order  in  the  beginning  of  the  four- 
teenth century.  Then  the  nobles  of  Rome  began  to  tear  it  down 
and  to  use  it  as  building  material  for  their  palaces.  Some  of  the 
finest  edifices  in  the  c'ty  are  built  with  stones  taken  from  the  poor 
4 


50  PERSOXALLY  CONDUCTED. 

old  Colosseum,  to  which  people  came  for  building  material  just  as 
if  it  had  been  a  stone  quarry.  This  went  on  until  1 740,  when 
Pope  Benedict  XIV.  put  a  stop  to  it  ;  and  since  then  successive 
popes  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  care  of  the  famous  ruins,  put- 
ting up  immense  buttresses  of  brick-work,  wherever  it  was  neces- 
sary, to  support  the  broken  parts  of  the  walls.  Fortunately, 
the  greater  part  of  the  demolition  has  been  done  on  one  side, 
but  nearly  all  the  marble  with  which  the  stone-work  was  faced  is 
gone. 

We  have  much  greater  privileges,  as  we  ramble  about,  than  the 
Roman  populace  ever  had.  We  can,  if  we  like,  go  down  into  the 
passages  and  curious  places  under  the  buildings,  where  the  old- 
time  spectators  were  not  allowed  to  go  ;  we  can  walk  around  the 
first  gallery,  which  was  occupied  by  the  senators  and  people  of 
high  degree  ;  and  we  can  even  enter  the  place  of  the  emperor's 
box,  which  certainly  no  Roman  plebeians  occupied.  This  is  at  one 
end  of  the  great  oval,  and  commands  a  fine  view  of  the  open  space. 
The  galleries  were  arranged  so  that  every  one  could  see  very  well, 
but  the  fighting  men  and  animals  must  have  seemed  very  small  to 
the  people  on  the  topmost  rows.  As  we  wander  about  the  lonely 
galleries  and  passages,  we  see  many  things  that  seem  to  bring  the 
days  of  pagan  Rome  very  near  to  us.  Here  are  some  loose  bricks, 
larger  and  thinner  than  ours,  and  of  a  yellowish  color  :  tliey  look 
almost  as  good  as  new,  and  on  one  side  are  stamped  the  initials  of 
the  maker,  as  clean  and  sharp  as  if  they  had  been  made  yesterday ; 
here  are  great  square  holes,  down  which  the  dust  used  to  be  swept 
after  the  performances  were  over;  and  here  are  many  channels 
and  openings  ingeniously  arranged  to  carry  off  the  rain-water — all 
of  which  have  a  very  recent  look.  On  the  lower  (loor  we  go 
through  the  doorways  which  lead  into  the  arena,  and  tread  upon 
marble  slabs  worn  by  the  feet  of  generations  of  gladiators,  as  well 


LITTLE  PISA    AND   GREAT  ROME.  5 1 

as  of  Christians  and  other  prisoners,  who  stepped  out  here  for 
their  last  fight.  Under  the  emperor's  box  is  a  passage  made  for 
the  entrance  of  the  elephants,  and  it  is  interesting  to  see  the  great 
beams  which  supported  this  floor  ;  these  are  each  formed  of  enor- 
mous stones,  not  fastened  together  in  any  way,  but  supporting 
each  other  by  their  wedge-like  shape,  and  extending  across  the 
space  in  a  horizontal  beam,  which  five  Jumbos,  joined  in  one, 
could  not  break  down. 

Among  the  most  interesting  relics  of  Roman  handiwork  to  be 
found  here  are  the  iron  bars,  as  large  as  the  rails  on  our  ^railroads, 
and  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  long,  with  which  the  immense  stones  in 
the  lower  part  of  the  building  were  bound  together.  These  are 
not  old  and  rusty,  but  in  good  condition,  with  the  spikes  which 
held  the  ends  together  still  firmly  wedged  in  where  they  were 
driven  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  and  the  marks  of  the  hammers 
plainly  to  be  seen  on  the  edges  of  the  tough  iron.  All  around  the 
outside  of  the  walls  we  see  numerous  holes  ;  these  are  the  places 
from  which  many  of  these  iron  rods  were  taken  out  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  when  iron,  especially  such  good  wrought  iron  as  this,  was  in 
great  demand. 

But  we  must  not  spend  too  much  time  in  this  grand  old  place, 
because,  interesting  as  it  is,  there  is  so  much  more  for  us  to  see. 
Nearly  all  visitors  come  to  see  the  Colosseum  by  moonlight,  if 
there  happens  to  be  a  full  moon  while  they  are  in  Rome,  and  we 
may  do  the  same  if  we  are  careful  ;  but  we  must  remember  the 
fate  of  Daisy  Miller,  in  Mr.  Henry  James's  story,  and  the  fate  of 
a  great  many  other  young  people  who  are  not  in  stories.  Rome, 
especially  the  ruined  parts  of  it,  is  very  unhealthy  after  night- 
fall. 

Rome  is  still  surrounded  by  the  great  wall  built  by  the 
Emperor   Aurelian,    sixteen    hundred  years    ago.      It    is    fourteen 


52  PERSONALLF  CONDUCTED. 

miles  long,  fifty-five  feet  high,  and  there  are  now  twelve  gates  in 
it.  The  present  city  is  a  large  one,  containing  about  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  people,  but  it  is  not  the  great  city  it  used  to  be. 
About  two-thirds  of  the  space  enclosed  by  the  walls  is  now  covered 
by  gardens,  vineyards,  and  the  ruins  of  the  temples,  palaces,  and 
other  grand  edifices  of  ancient  Rome.  The  River  Tiber  runs 
through  the  city,  and  is  crossed  by  seven  bridges. 

One  of  the  most  lively  parts  of  Rome  is  the  Piazza  di  Spagna, 
which  is  a  large  open  space,  situated  in  what  is  called  the 
Stranger's  Quarter,  because  near  it  are  many  of  the  hotels  fre- 
quented  by  visitors.  Streets  lined  with  shops  lead  into  this 
piazza ;  the  middle  of  the  space  is  crowded  with  carriages  for  hire 
(sixteen  cents  for  a  single  drive  for  two  persons)  ;  and  on  one  side 
rises  the  famous  Spanish  Stairs.  This  is  a  series  of  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  stone  steps,  wide  enough  at  the  bottom  for  sixty 
or  seventy  boys  and  girls  to  go  up  abreast,  and  separating  grace- 
fully to  the  right  and  left  at  several  platforms.  These  lead  up 
to  the  celebrated  Pincian  Hill,  and  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  is  the 
})icturesque  church  of  Trinita  de  Monti.  On  bright  afternoons  a 
lot  of  very  queer  people,  who  look  as  if  they  had  been  taken  out 
of  pictures,  are  to  be  seen  sitting  and  standing  on  the  steps  of  this 
great  staircase.  Many  of  them  are  children,  and  some  are  very 
old  people.  The  boys  wear  bright-colored  jackets,  knee-breeches, 
and  long  stockings,  and  shoes  made,  each,  of  a  square  piece  of 
sheep-skin,  with  holes  in  the  edges  by  which  it  is  laced  to  the  foot 
1)\'  lone  colored  strings  which  are  crossed  many  times  around  the 
ankles  ;  they  wear  very  wide  hats  with  peaked  crowns,  and  often 
little  colored  waistcoats.  The  girls  wear  shoes  like  the  boys, 
bright-colored  skirts  and  bodices,  gay  striped  aprons,  and  a  head- 
dress composed  of  a  tkit,  wide  strip  of  white  cloth  covering  the  top 
of    the    head,    and   han^rincf   far   down    behind.      The    women    are 


LITTLE  PISA    AND   GREAT  ROME. 


53 


dressed  very  much  the  same  way,  in  red,  bhie,  yellow,  and  white. 
The  men,  some  of  whom  have  splendid  white  beards,  are  very  fond 
of  long  cloaks  with  green  linings,  feathers  in  their  hats,  and  bright 
sashes ;  and  many  of  them  wear  sheep-skin  breeches,  with  the 
wool  outside.  These  people  have  not  come  out  of  pictures,  but 
they  all  wish  to  go  into  them.  They  are  artiste'  models,  and  sit 
here  waiting  for  some  painter  to  come  along  and  take  them  to  his 


mr^^-^ 


ON   THE    PINCIAN    HILL. 


Studio,  where  he  may  put  them  and  their  fanciful  costumes  into  a 
picture.  They  are  often  very  handsome,  but  they  look  better  at 
a  distance  than  when  we  are  near  them,  for  they  are  generally 
not  quite  as  clean  as  a  fresh-blown  rose  ;  but,  scattered  over  the 
Spanish   Stairs  in   the  bright  sunlight,  they  make  a  very  pleasing 


54  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

picture.  The  children  occupy  their  spare  time  in  selling  flowers, 
and  some  of  the  little  girls  will  never  leave  you  until  you  have 
bought  a  tiny  bunch  of  pansies  or  violets,  which  you  can  have  for 
almost  anything  you  choose  to  give  for  it.  If  we  are  fortunate, 
we  may  see  a  company  of  these  models  dancing  on  one  of  the 
broad  platforms  of  the  stairs.  One  of  them  plays  a  tambourine, 
and  the  others  dance  gayly  to  its  lively  taps  ;  sometimes  a  boy  and 
girl  slip  in  among  the  others,  and  these  two  look  prettier  than  all 
the  others,  although  they  run  great  risk  of  being  crushed  by  their 
larger  companions.  There  are  many  artists  in  Rome,  because 
there  is  so  very  much  here  that  is  worth  painting  ;  and  conse- 
quently there  is  a  class  of  persons  who  do  nothing  else  but  sit  or 
stand  as  models. 

Many  of  these  long  stairways  are  to  be  found  in  the  streets  of 
Rome,  for  the  city  is  built  upon  hills,  as  we  all  know,  and  these 
flights  of  steps  make  short  cuts  for  foot-passengers,  while  vehicles 
have  often  to  tro  a  lone  wav  around. 

From  the  top  of  the  Pincian  Hill,  a  portion  of  which  is  laid 
out  as  a  pleasure-ground,  we  have  a  view  of  a  large  part  of  tlie 
city,  and,  far  off  in  the  distance,  we  see  a  great  dome  rising  against 
the  sky.  This  is  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  the  largest  church  in 
the  world  ;  and  now  we  will  go  down  into  the  piazza,  take  a  car- 
riage, and  drive  there.  .  Most  of  us  have  seen  pictures  of  the 
church,  and  are  not  surprised  at  the  magnificent  square  in  front  of 
it,  cind  the  great  pile  of  buildings  on  one  side,  called  the  Vatican, 
where  the  Pope  lives.  This  palace  contains  eleven  thousand  halls 
and  apartments,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  in  it  that  wc;  must  see, 
but  we  will  go  there  some  other  time.  I  think  that  most  of  us  will 
find  tlie  interior  of  St.  Peter's  even  larger  than  we  expected  ;  and, 
indeed,  it  is  so  vast  that  it  takes  some  time  to  understand  how 
big  it  is.     The  great  central  space,  or  nave,  is  large  enough   for  a 


LITTLE  PISA    AND    GREAT  ROME.  55 

public  square  or  parade  ground,  while  in  the  aisles  on  each  side 
of  it,  in  the  various  chapels,  in  the  transepts,  and  in  the  choir  or 
chancel,  there  is  room  enough  for  seven  or  eight  ordinary  city 
conoreeations  to  assemble  without  interferinor  with  one  another. 
There  are  pictures  and  statues,  grand  altars,  gorgeous  marbles, 
and  a  vast  expanse  of  mosaic  work  in  the  dome  and  other  places. 
But,  after  we  have  seen  all  these,  the  size  of  the  church  will  still 
remain  its  most  interestino-  feature.  The  interior  is  so  bio^  that  it 
has  an  atmosphere  of  its  own,  and  at  all  seasons  the  temperature 
remains  about  the  same.  If  you  enter  the  church  in  the  summer 
time,  you  will  find  it  pleasantly  cool  ;  and  if  you  come  in  the  winter 
time,  it  will  be  warm  and  comfortable.  As  a  rule,  the  churches  of 
Italy  are  cold  and  damp  at  all  times,  but  this  is  not  the  case  with 
St.  Peter's.  In  regard  to  its  permanent  temperature,  it  resem- 
bles the  Mammoth  Cave  of  Kentucky.  It  ought  to  be  a  large 
church,  for  it  took  one  hundred  and  seventy-six  years  to  build 
it ;  and,  although  in  that  period  the  workmen  took  one  good  rest 
of  fifty  years,  the  building  went  on  quite  steadily  the  rest  of  the 
time. 

An  excellent  way  to  get  an  idea  of  the  size  of  St.  Peter's  is  to 
walk  around  the  outside  of  the  church.  The  entrances  to  some  of 
the  great  art  galleries  of  the  Vatican  are  only  to  be  reached  by 
g-oing"  around  the  back  of  St.  Peter's  ;  and,  as  the  cabmen  of  Rome 
do  not  like  to  drive  around  there,  our  drivers  will  probably  put  us 
down  at  the  front  of  the  churcli,  if  they  think  we  do  not  know  any 
better,  and  tell  us  they  cannot  go  any  farther,  and  that  all  we  have 
to  do  is  to  just  step  around  the  building  and  we  shall  easily  find 
the  doors  of  the  gallery.  But  if  we  do  this  we  shall  step,  and  step, 
and  step,  under  archways  and  through  courtyards,  and  over  an 
open  square,  and  along  a  street,  all  the  time  walking  upon  small 
rough  paving-stones,  until  we  think  there  is  no  end  to  the  circum- 


56  PERSONALLl'  CONDUCTED. 

ference  of  St.  Peter's.  It  is  like  walking  around  a  good-sized 
village  ;  and  the  next  time  wc;  come,  we  will  make  the  drivers  take 
us  all  the  way  to  the  door  of  the  galleries,  or  they  shall  go  with- 
out their  fares. 

If  we  happen  to  be  at  the  church  on  Thursday  morning,  when 
the  public  is  allowed  to  ascend  to  the  roof  and  dome  (or,  if  we 
have  a  written  permission,  any  day  will  do),  we  will  all  make  this 
ascent.  A  long  series  of  very  easy  steps  takes  us  to  the  roof, 
which  is  of  great  extent,  and  has  on  it  small  domes,  and  also  houses 
in  which  workmen  and  other  persons  employed  in  the  church  have 
their  homes.  Above  this  roof  the  great  dome  rises  to  the  immense 
height  of  three  hundred  and  eight  feet.  Around  the  outside  of  it 
we  see  strong  iron  bands  which  were  put  there  a  hundred  years 
ago,  when  it  was  feared  that  the  dome  might  be  cracked  by  its  own 
enormous  weight.  There  is  an  inner  and  an  outer  dome,  and, 
between  these,  winding  galleries  and  staircases,  very  hard  on  the 
legs,  lead  to  the  top,  which  is  called  the  Lantern,  where  we  can  go 
out  on  the  gallery  and  have  a  fine  view  of  the  country  all  around. 
Those  of  you  who  choose  can  go  up  some  very  narrow  iron  steps, 
only  wide  enough  for  one  person  at  a  time,  and  enter  the  hollow 
copper  ball  at  the  very  top  of  everything.  When  we  look  at  this 
ball  from  the  ground,  it  seems  about  the  size  of  a  big  foot-ball,  but 
it  is  large  enough  to  hold  sixteen  persons  at  once.  On  our  way 
down,  before  we  reach  the  roof,  we  will  step  upon  an  inside  gallery 
and  look  down  into  the  church  ;  and,  as  we  see  the  little  mites  of 
people  walking  about  on  the  marble  iloor  so  far  beneath  us,  we 
may  begin  to  wonder — that  is  to  say,  some  of  us — if  those  iron 
bands  around  the  outside  of  the  dome  are  really  very  strong  ;  for 
if  they  should  give  way  while  we  are  up  there —  But,  no  matter, 
we  will  go  down  now. 

In  returning  from  St.  Peter's,  we  pass  an  immense  round  build- 


LITTLE  PISA    AND    GREAT  ROME. 


57 


ing,  like  a  fortress,  which  is  now  called  the  Castle  of  San  Angelo, 
but  was  originally  known  as  Hadrian's  tomb.  It  was  built  by  the 
Emperor  Hadrian  in  the  second  century  as  a  burial-place  for  him- 
self and  his  successors.  It  is  now  used  by  the  Italian  Government 
as  a  barracks  and  military  prison.  For  hundreds  of  years  it  was 
occupied  as  a  fortress.  An  old  soldier  will  take  us  about  and 
show   us  everything.      But,   just   as  we   are   about  to   start   on  our 


1 


U: 


I'Bntt— -^--*^'—  ---'-.JiSJ:/ 


^-^^^^-^^, 


II' 


THE    CASTT.F,    OF    SAN    ANGELO,     FROM    THE    TIBER. ST.    PETER  S    IN    THE    DISTANCE. 


rounds,  we  are  obliged  to  wait  while  a  large  body  of  soldiers  march 
out;  platoon  after  platoon,  knapsack  and  gun  on  shoulder,  they 
march  by,  tramp,  tramp,  until  we  are  tired  of  seeing  them.  At  last 
they  all  are  out,  and  then  we  go  through  the  great  building,  with 
its   many  courts,  staircases,  and   rooms.      In  the  very  centre  is  the 


58  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

stone  cell  which  was  Hadrian's  tomb.  But  he  is  not  there  now  ; 
long  ago  his  body  and  his  sarcophagus  were  removed,  and  the  place 
for  nine  hundred  years  has  been  the  abode  of  the  living,  and  not 
of  the  dead.  What  was  built  for  a  pagan  tomb  has  been  used  for 
a  citadel  by  every  power  which  has  since  ruled  Rome.  When  it 
was  a  tomb,  the  outside  was  covered  with  marble  and  statuary  ; 
now  it  is  only  a  tower  of  brick. 


IV. 


GREAT    ROME    AGAIN. 


IN  the  beginning  of  our  visit  to  Rome  I  remarked  that  the 
ancient  city  is  now  many  feet  below  the  level  of  the  present 
streets.  For  centuries  upon  centuries,  dust  and  rubbish  of 
various  kinds  have  gradually  accumulated  and  formed  a  soil  which 
has  thus  slowly  piled  itself  upon  old  Rome,  covering  it  all  out 
of  sight,  excepting  those  portions  of  the  ruins  which  were  tall 
enough  to  keep  above  this  rising  tide  of  earth.  In  some  parts  of 
the  city  we  may  yet  see  the  ruins  of  temples  with  the  lower  parts 
of  the  porticos  embedded  deeply  in  the  soil,  and  wherever  these 
old  buildings  have  been  excavated,  the  entrances  and  lower  floors 
are  beneath  the  level  of  the  streets,  so  that  we  have  to  go  down  to 
them  by  steps.  Thus  we  must  descend  to  reach  the  arena  of  the 
Colosseum,  the  whole  lower  part  of  this  great  building  having 
been  covered  up  in  this  way.  This  is  the  reason  why  we  can  still 
see,  near  the  ground,  the  great  iron  bars  which  held  the  stones 
together.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  when  people  used  to  come  and 
take  away  this  iron-work,  all  the  bars  which  now  remain  were  cov- 
ered up,  and  thus  protected,  while  of  those  in  the  exposed  por- 
tions of  the  walls  not  one  is  left.  This  covering  up  of  old  Rome 
is  a  great  disadvantage  in  some  respects,  for  it  has  made  necessary 
a  vast  deal  of  work  and  expense  in  excavating  the  ruins ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  has  been  of  great  advantage  in  saving  and  pro- 
tecting until  modern  times,  not  only  portions  of  buildings,  but 
great    numbers  of    valuable  statues,   mosaics,  and  other  works  of 


6o  PERSOXALLr  COXDUCJED. 

art.  In  fact,  nearly  all  the  ancient  Roman  sculptures  which  we  see 
in  the  galleries  were  preserved  in  this  way,  and  it  is  very  fortunate 
for  us  that  they  were  ;  for,  in  the  medieeval  times,  every  piece  of 
ancient  marble  that  could  be  found,  no  matter  how  beautifully  it 
was  sculptured,  was  either  used  for  building-  or  burned  for  lime. 
It  is  believed  that  some  of  the  most  valuable  statues  of  antiquity 
were  thus  used  to  make  mortar.  Now  the  work  of  excavation  is 
o-oina-  on  all  the  time  ;  the  grreatest  care  is  taken  of  the  ruins  that 
are  thus  exposed  to  view;  and  every  statue  that  is  found,  and  even 
every  broken-off  hand  or  foot,  is  looked  upon  as  a  treasure.  If  I 
could  believe  that  the  people  of  the  twenty-fifth  century  would 
improve  as  much  on  us  as  we  have  improved  upon  the  people  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  I  should  almost  be  sorry  that  I  was  born  so 
soon. 

At  some  distance  from  the  modern  portion  of  the  city,  and  near 
the  river,  is  a  rounded  green  hill,  which  is  called  Monte  Testaccio. 
This  hill  is  a  very  good  example  of  how  the  surface  of  the  ground 
can  be  gradually  raised  in  the  course  of  centuries.  It  is  one 
hundred  and  sixty-four  feet  in  height.  It  stands  near  the  place 
where  the  ancient  Roman  wharves  were  situated,  at  whicli  the 
ships  bringing  large  jars  and  other  pottery  from  Spain  and  Africa 
unloaded.  Such  jars  as  were  broken  were  thrown  or  piled  up 
here  ;  and  it  was  said  that,  at  the  end  of  the  second  century,  the 
mound  was  about  eighty  feet  high.  The  fragments  of  these  jars 
and  of  other  pottery  that  was  landed  here  have  thus  gradually 
formed  a  little  mountain  as  high  as  the  top  of  a  tall  church-steeple. 
It  has  been  cut  into  in  many  places  and  found  everywhere  to  con- 
sist of  the  same  material,  and  so  it  may  be  said  to  be  the  largest 
object  in  the  world  that  is  formed  of  earthenware.  It  is  long  since 
any  broken  pottery  has  been  added  to  the  pile,  and  it  is  now  cov- 
ered over  with  soil,  on  which  the  grass  grows  green  and  luxuriant. 


GREAT  ROME  AGAIN.  61 

There  is  a  church  in  Rome,  called  San  Clemente,  which  is,  in 
some  respects,  an  exceedingly  curious  edifice.  Here  we  find  four 
buildings,  one  on  top  of  another.  The  uppermost  is  the  present 
church,  built  in  the  year  i  108,  and  we  shall  see  some  interesting^ 
decorations  of  old-fashioned  mosaic  work  on  its  walls  and  ceilino-s. 
But  we  shall  not  spend  much  time  here,  for  there  is  another  church 
below  this,  and  under  the  surface  of  the  ground,  which  we  very 
much  wish  to  see.  This  is  a  church  of  the  early  Christians,  which 
was  first  mentioned  in  the  year  392.  During  one  of  the  wars  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  the  upper  part  of  this  building  was  entirely 
destroyed  and  the  rest  much  damaged  ;  and  about  twenty-four 
years  afterward  the  present  church  was  built  over  it,  and  partly  on 
its  walls.  A  stairway  now  leads  down  into  this  old  church,  and  we 
can  wander  about  the  nave  and  aisles  in  which  the  early  Christians 
used  to  worship.  On  the  walls  are  a  number  of  fresco  paintings, 
representing  Bible  scenes,  and  instances  in  the  life  of  St.  Clement, 
for  whom  the  church  was  named.  There  are  also  other  subjects, 
and  some  of  these  paintings  are  still  in  a  very  good  condition,  so 
that  it  is  quite  easy  to  see  what  they  represent.  In  order  that 
there  shall  be  no  mistake,  the  names  of  some  of  the  persons  are 
painted  beneath  them.  Of  course  all  the  windows  are  blocked  up 
now,  and  the  man  who  takes  us  down  carries  a  light ;  but  on 
certain  days  this  ancient  church  is  illuminated  with  many  candles, 
and  then  it  is  crowded  with  visitors.  Below  this  church  are  the 
remains  of  Roman  buildings  of  the  time  of  the  emperors,  on  the 
foundations  of  which  the  old  Christian  edifice  was  built.  Three 
rooms  have  been  excavated  here,  and  a  stairway  leads  down  to 
them,  but  they  are  very  wet  and  unpleasant.  Still  below  these  are 
great  walls  belonging  to  a  building  of  the  time  of  the  Roman 
republic.  This  edifice  was  of  massive  stone,  and  on  its  walls 
were    erected    the    later    Roman    buildings,    which    are    of    brick. 


62  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

When  that  lower  edifice,  now  like  the  ground  floor  of  a  three- 
story  cellar,  was  in  use,  it  was,  of  course,  on  the  surface  of  the 
eround. 

There  are,  no  doubt,  many  persons  now  living  in  Rome  who  have 
beneath  them  the  residence  of  some  gentleman  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
under  which,  perhaps,  is  the  home  of  a  Roman  family  of  the  time 
of  the  Caesars  ;  and  this  may  have  been  built  upon  the  foundations 
of  another  Roman  house,  which  was  considered  a  good  place  to  live 
in  some  five  or  six  hundred  years  before.  It  must  be  a  very  satis- 
factory thing,  when  one  is  going  to  build  a  house,  to  find  beneath 
the  'ground  some  good  substantial  walls  which  will  make  excellent 
foundations.  It  very  often  happens  that  these  remains  of  ancient 
buildings  are  built  of  larger  stones,  and  are  firmer  and  more  solid 
than  the  houses  which  are  erected  upon  them.  There  is  another 
side,  however,  to  this  matter,  and  the  remains  of  old  buildings  are 
frequently  very  much  in  the  way  of  those  who  wish  to  erect  new 
houses,  for  it  does  not  always  occur  that  the  ancient  walls  are  in 
the  right  places,  or  of  a  suitable  kind,  to  serve  as  foundations  for 
the  modern  building.  Then  they  have  to  be  dug  up  and  taken  out, 
which  is  a  great  labor.  There  is  a  handsome  American  church  in 
Rome  ;  for  as  great  numbers  of  our  country  people  visit  that  city 
every  winter,  and  a  good  many  live  there,  it  is  considered  desirable 
for  us  to  have  a  church  of  our  own.  This  was  built  in  a  place 
which  used  to  be  one  of  the  most  populous  parts  of  ancient  Rome, 
and  the  work  was  made  very  expensive  by  the  difficulty  of  getting 
rid  of  portions  of  walls,  arches,  rooms,  and  vaults  which  these 
Romans  had  left  behind  them,  never  thinkinor  that  in  the  course  of 
ages  there  might  be  such  people  as  Americans  who  would  wish  to 
build  a  church  here. 

I  may  remark  here,  that  wherever  we  go  in  Europe  we  shall 
find  ourselves  called  Americans,  although  this  term  would  apply  just 


GREAT  ROME  AGAIN.  63 


as  well  to  Canadians,  Mexicans,  or  the  inhabitants  of  Nicaragua. 
The  fact  is,  that  the  name  of  our  country  cannot  very  well  be 
applied  to  its  citizens.  To  speak  of  us  properly,  we  should  be 
called  United-States-of-Afnericans;  but  this  is  too  long-  a  title, 
and  in  Europe  the  term  Americans  is  generally  applied  to  the 
people  of  the  United  States,  and  to  no  others.  It  is  not  well 
to  have  too  much  name.  I  used  to  own  a  dog  whose  whole 
name  was  Fax  Mentis  Incendiuni  Glori^E,  but  I  always  called  him 
"  Fax." 

I  have  said  that  Rome  offers  wonderful  attractions  and  advan- 
tages to  artists,  but  we  shall  find  that  it  offers  just  as  much  to  those 
who  love  art,  but  are  not  artists.  The  city  is  crowded,  so  to  speak, 
with  collections  of  painting  and  statuary,  among  which  are  to  be 
found  some  of  the  greatest  works  of  the  kind  in  the  world.  When 
we  begin  to  visit  the  principal  galleries,  some  of  which  are  in  pri- 
vate palaces,  and  some  in  public  buildings,  we  shall  think  that  they 
exist  everywhere  In  the  city.  Our  first  art  expedition  will  be  made 
to  the  Vatican,  because  that  is  so  grand  and  interesting  a  building 
in  itself,  and  because  it -contains  the  most  important  art  treasures 
in  Rome.  Among  these  are  the  famous  Sistine  Chapel,  which  owes 
its  reputation  to  the  wonderful  frescos  by  Michael  Angelo  ;  the 
Staiizc,  or  rooms,  of  Raphael,  which  contain  a  great  many  frescos 
by  this  great  master  ;  Raphael's  Loggia,  a  long  gallery  with  a  glass 
front,  the  ceiling  of  which  is  adorned  with  frescos,  which  are  some- 
times called  Raphael's  Bible,  as  they  consist  of  scenes  from  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments.  Then  there  is  the  gallery  of  pictures, 
most  of  them  by  great  masters  ;  and  the  department  of  sculpture, 
consisting  of  many  halls  and  galleries  filled  with  an  almost  endless 
collection  of  statues,  sarcophagi,  bas-reliefs,  and  other  works  of  the 
greatest  ancient  sculptors. 

To   visit    these   collections,   which    alone    are  worth    a    trip  to 


64  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

Europe,    we    must    have    printed    permits,    which    are   very   easily 
obtained. 

To  reach  the  Sistine  Chapel,  the  picture  galleries,  and  Raphael's 
rooms,  we  must  present  ourselves  at  the  bronze  gates,  the  principal 
entrance  to  the  Vatican,  situated  to  the  right  of  the  great  square 
in  front  of  St.  Peter's.  The  Vatican,  v/ith  its  galleries  and  grounds, 
tocfether  with  St.  Peter's  and  some  other  buildincrs,  belones  exclu- 
sively  to  the  Pope,  who  exercises  here  a  sovereignty  entirely  dis- 
tinct and  separate  from  that  of  the  king  of  Italy,  who  now  includes 
the  rest  of  Rome  in  his  dominions.  The  Pope  has  his  own  soldiers, 
who  are  not  very  many,  and  who  generally  act  as  guards  to  the 
various  parts  of  the  Vatican.  Behind  the  bronze  doors,  which  are 
enormous  barred  gates,  we  shall  see  some  of  these  soldiers,  one  of 
whom  will  ask  us  for  our  permessos,  or  permits.  I  am  sure  you  never 
beheld  military  gentlemen  like  them  before.  They  are  called  the 
Swiss  Guard,  and  are  dressed  in  a  uniform  of  flowing  tunic  and 
breeches,  formed  of  broad  perpendicular  stripes  of  black,  red,  and 
yellow,  long  stockings  striped  in  black  and  yellow  ;  and  on  state 
occasions  they  wear  brass  helmets  with  heavy  white  plumes,  and 
carry  halberds,  or  pikes  with  axe-heads  at  the  ends.  The  officers' 
dress,  of  the  same  design,  is  of  bright  silk,  and  they  make  a  dazzling 
appearance.  These  men  appear  as  if  they  belonged  to  the  Middle 
Ages  and  had  nothing  to  do  with  our  modern  times  ;  and  they 
very  properly  seem  so,  for  their  uniform  was  designed  by  Michael 
Angelo  not  long  after  the  discovery  of  America,  and  their  costume 
has  never  been  changed.  It  used  to  be  the  custom  of  many  of  the 
potentates  of  Europe  to  have  personal  guards  composed  of  Swiss 
soldiers,  as  they  were  considered  more  honest  and  trustworthy  than 
any  others.  In  Walter  Scott's  "  Ouentin  Durward"  you  will  learn 
a  great  deal  about  the  Swiss  iruards  of  PVance.  In  Paris  the 
porter   at  the    doors  of   great    houses    is    still  often  called   "  The 


GREAT  ROME  AGAIN.  65 

Swiss,"  although  he  is  ahnost  always  a  Frenchman.  And  these 
guards  of  the  Pope  are  now  Italians,  but  they  still  retain  the  old 
name. 

Rome  is  full  of  the  greatest  things  in  the  world,  and  I  believe 
that  the  marble  staircase  of  the  Vatican  which  now  extends  itself 
before  us,  straight  on  and  up  in  a  gentle  slope  to  such  a  distance 
that  the  people  at  the  top  seem  dwarfed,  as  if  they  were  at  the 
end  of  some  long  avenue  of  trees,  if  not  the  greatest  straight 
flight  of  steps  in  the  world,  is  certainly  one  of  them.  It  is  called 
the  Scala  Regia,  or  royal  stairway,  and  up  it  we  go.  The  steps 
are  not  very  high,  but  very  broad,  which  is  the  case  in  most 
of  the  Roman  palaces,  and  this  makes  the  ascent  easier ;  but 
when  we  come  to  the  top  we  shall  find  that  the  business  of  going- 
upstairs  is  by  no  means  at  an  end.  When  we  have  found  stair- 
way after  stairway,  and  have  gone  up  and  up  and  up  to  the 
various  places  we  have  come  to  see,  we  shall  understand  what 
it  is  to  be  in  a  building  ten  stories  high,  and  without  an 
elevator. 

As  I  have  said  before,  the  entrance  to  the  sculpture  galler- 
ies is  reached  by  going  around  St.  Peter's  Church,  There  are 
many  of  these  galleries  filled  with  the  great  works  of  Greece 
and  Rome,  and  here  we  shall  find  the  originals  of  many  world- 
famous  statues  with  which  we  are  all  familiar  from  engravings 
and  casts,  such  as  the  Apollo  Belvidere,  the  Laocoon,  and  the 
beautiful  Mercury,  formerly  known  as  Antinous.  The  magnificent 
marble  halls,  the  mosaic  pavements,  and  the  grand  collection  of 
sculpture  to  be  seen  here  will  be  a  delight  and  surprise  to  us, 
no  matter  hovv  much  we  may  have  read  or  heard  about  them 
before. 

In  this  part  of  the  building  there  is  also  the  vast  library  of  the 
Vatican,  in  which  there  are  a  great  many  interesting  things  to  be 
5 


66  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

seen  besides  books,  such  as  superb  and  costly  presents  made  to 
different  popes  by  European  sovereigns. 

Although  we  are  in  the  Pope's  house,  we  shall  not  see  him,  for 
the  public  is  not  allowed  to  enter  his  private  apartments  and 
beautiful  grounds. 

Another  great  collection  of  sculpture  we  shall  find  at  the 
Capitoline  Museum,  a  building  on  the  Capitol  Hill,  once  the  seat 
of  the  ancient  Roman  government.  In  this  collection  is  the  famous 
Dying  Gladiator,  or,  as  it  should  be  called,  the  Dying  Gaul ;  and 
the  Faun  of  Praxiteles,  a  beautiful  statue  of  a  youth,  which  is  well 
known  to  all  of  us  who  have  read  Hawthorne's  story  of  "  The 
Marble  Faun."  In  this  Capitoline  Museum  and  in  a  building 
opposite,  called  the  Conservatori,  there  are  a  great  many  antique 
statues  and  sculptures,  and  among  them,  in  the  last-named  building, 
is  one  which  I  am  sure  my  young  companions  will  find  very  inter- 
esting. It  is  the  tombstone  of  a  boy  named  O.  Sulpicius  Maximus, 
who  died  at  the  age  of  eleven  and  a  half,  in  consequence  of  having 
worked  too  hard  at  school.  I  do  not  believe  that  many  of  my 
young  readers  are  likely  to  die  from  this  cause,  but  if  any  of  them 
should  feel  inclined  to  study  too  hard  and  play  too  little,  they 
miorht  oret  some  useful  hints  from  this  tombstone.  Younpf  O.  Sul- 
picius  was  engaged  in  a  competition  with  fifty-two  other  scholars 
in  writing  Greek  verses,  and  succeeded  in  excelling  them  all.  It 
would,  however,  have  been  better  for  him  personally  if  he  had  not 
done  so  well,  for  his  efforts  killed  him,  and  ail  he  gained  was  fame. 
This  has  been  very  lasting,  for  his  achievements  are  related  upon 
this  tombstone,  and  all  of  us  who  are  learned  enough  may  read 
quotations  from  his  Greek  verses,  which  are  inscribed  upon  the 
marble,  and  gaze  upon  the  statuette  of  the  boy  himself,  no  doubt 
a  very  good  portrait. 

In  the  central   square  of  the  Capitol,  which  is  surrounded  on 


GREAT  ROME  AGAIN. 


67 


three  sides  by  buildings,  stands  a  very  large  bronze  statue  of 
Marcus  Aurelius,  once  emperor  of  Rome,  mounted  on  a  spirited 
horse.     This  is  the  only  equestrian  statue  which  has  been  preserved 


"■^  Caiii^(i><^iw'»- )i?v>- 


A    BIRD  S-EYE    VIEW    OF    A    PART   OF    ROME. 


in  a  perfect  condition  out  of  the  many  that  decorated  ancient 
Rome.  Michael  Angelo,  who  designed  the  buildings  which  at 
present  stand  on  this  hill,  was  very  fond  of  this  statue,  and 
especially  admired  the  horse.      One  day,  while  he  was  studying  it, 


68  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

he  forgot  that  it  was  not  alive,  and  wishing  to  see  it  in  another 
position,  he  cried  out,  "  Cavi  /  "  which  means.  Go  on.  After  looking 
at  this  horse  for  some  time,  one  might  easily  imagine  that  a  shout 
or  a  touch  of  a  whip  would  make  it  jump. 

A  long  inclined  plane,  covered  with  an  asphalt  pavement,  leads 
down  to  the  street  below  ;  and  near  the  top  of  this  incline  is  a 
large  iron  cage,  in  which  some  live  wolves  are  always  kept.  This 
is  in  memory  of  the  ancient  wolf  who  was  good  enough  to  take 
care  of  Romulus  and  Remus  when  there  was  nobody  else  to  do  it. 
This  wolf  is  still  considered  as  a  Roman  emblem  ;  pictures  and 
carvings  of  it  are  seen  on  many  buildings  and  public  places,  and  it 
is  even  stamped  on  pats  of  butter.  It  is  a  great  pity,  from  an 
artistic  point  of  view,  that  some  more  graceful  creature  did  not 
adopt  the  little  babies  who  afterward  founded  the  city.  Not  far 
from  here,  on  the  Palatine  Hill,  is  still  shown  a  cave  which  is 
said  to  be  the  identical  den  in  which  the  old  wolf  established  her 
little  orphan-asylum.  In  the  course  of  our  rambles  we  shall  pass 
this,  and  those  who  choose  may  go  in. 

In  nearly  all  the  palaces  and  villas  of  the  nobles  in  and  about 
Rome  there  are  collections  of  paintings  and  sculptures,  some  of 
them  very  large  and  filling  many  halls  and  rooms.  We  shall  try 
to  visit  as  many  of  these  as  we  can,  for  nearly  every  one  of  them 
contains  some  famous  pieces  of  antique  sculpture  or  some  of  the 
great  paintings  of  the  masters  of  the  Middle  Ages.  In  one  of 
these,  the  Spada  palace,  there  stands,  in  an  outer  hall,  a  tall  statue 
of  the  Roman  general  Pompey,  which  is  believed  to  be  the  very 
statue  at  the  feet  of  which  Julius  Csesar  was  assassinated  by  Brutus 
and  the  other  conspirators.  In  the  Rospigliosi  gallery  is  Guide's 
famous  Aurora,  which  is  a  fresco  covering  nearly  all  the  ceiling  of 
a  large  room.  We  all  are  familiar  with  engravings  and  copies  of 
this  picture,  but  we  shall  find  it  rather  difficult   to  look  as  long  as 


GREAT  ROME  AGAIN.  69 


we  wish  at  the  original  without  making  our  necks  ache  by  bend- 
ing our  heads  backward  as  we  gaze  at  the  ceiling.  To  obviate 
this  obstacle  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  picture,  a  looking-glass  is 
fixed  upon  the  table  in  such  a  way  that  visitors  can  look  down  into 
it  and  see  the  perfect  reflection  of  the  beautiful  fresco  above  their 
heads.  Many  of  the  churches,  too,  contain  famous  works,  and 
among  these  we  shall  certainly  not  omit  San  Pietro  in  Vincoli, 
where  sits  Michael  Angelo's  majestic  and  awful  statue  of  Moses. 
No  end  of  statues,  no  end  of  paintings,  no  end  of  grand  palaces 
full  of  the  works  of  ancient  and  modern  artists,  shall  we  see  while 
we  are  in  Rome.  The  great  difficulty  will  be  not  to  allow  our 
desire  to  enjoy  beautiful  things  to  tire  us  out.  Visitors  often 
overtax  their  strength  ;  but  we  shall  be  prudent,  and  not  work  too 
hard  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure. 

The  burying-places  of  Rome  are  among  its  most  curious  sights. 
We  have  seen  one  of  these,  the  tomb  of  Hadrian,  which  was  an 
enormous  edifice  built  for  the  last  resting-place  of  one  man  and  a 
few  of  his  family ;  and  now  we  shall  visit  a  small  building  which 
contained  the  remains  of  quite  a  congregation  of  people.  This  is 
situated  near  one  of  the  city  gates,  in  a  place  now  occupied  by  vine- 
yards, and  is  called  a  cohLmbaritmi.  It  is  a  small  square  house,  of 
stone,  the  greater  part  underground,  and  contains  but  one  room,  into 
which  we  descend  by  a  very  steep  and  very  narrow  flight  of  stairs. 
The  ancient  Romans  very  often  burned  the  bodies  of  deceased 
persons,  and  in  this  place  they  kept  the  little  urns,  or  caskets,  which 
contained  the  ashes.  All  around  the  four  walls  of  the  room,  and  in 
a  large  square  pillar  of  masonry  in  the  centre,  are  little  recesses, 
like  pigeon-holes  ;  and  this  resemblance  is  the  reason  for  the  name, 
columbarium,  meaning  pigeon-house.  These  holes  are  each  about 
a  foot  square,  and  deep  enough  to  hold  from  two  to  four  of  the 
earthen  pots  or  stone  boxes  in  which  the  ashes  were  kept ;   and 


;o  PERSONALLV  CONDUCTED. 

this  building  contained  six  hundred  of  these  urns.  Each  pigeon- 
hole was  owned  by  a  family,  whose  name  we  can  see  inscribed  on 
a  marble  tablet  over  the  opening.  Sometimes  it  is  stated  who  is 
buried  inside,  and  on  some  of  them  various  particulars  are  given, 
such  as  when  and  how  the  little  vaults  were  bought.  It  is  very  curi- 
ous and  interesting  to  walk  about  this  room  and  read  the  names  and 
ages  of  persons  who  were  thus  conveniently  buried  some  eighteen 
centuries  ago.  Many  of  the  jars  and  boxes  still  remain,  and  some 
of  them  contain  frao^ments  and  cinders.  There  are  other  cohiin- 
baria  in  Rome,  but  this  is  the  best,  and  the  only  one  we  need  visit. 

Just  outside  the  Porta  Maggiore,  one  of  the  principal  gates  of 
the  city,  is  a  very  odd  specimen  of  a  burial-place  which  we  all  shall 
wish  to  see.  It  is  the  tomb  of  a  baker,  built  by  himself  in  the  days 
of  the  Roman  republic,  some  time  before  the  beginning  of  the 
Christian  era.  It  is  a  stone  edifice,  as  larae  as  a  little  house,  and 
constructed  in  the  form  of  a  baker's  oven.  This  ancient  maker  of 
bread,  whose  name  was  Marcus  Vergilius  Eurysaces,  was  probably 
a  very  good  baker,  and  he  did  not  wish  this  fact  forgotten  after 
his  death.  All  around  his  tomb  are  small  sculptured  figures 
representing  bakers  attending  to  different  parts  of  their  business, 
some  grinding  grain,  others  kneading  and  making  up  loaves  of 
bread,  and  others  baking  it.  There  is  also  on  it  an  inscription  in 
Latin,  stating  that  this  is  the  monument  of  the  said  Eurysaces,  and 
that  he  was  not  only  a  purveyor  of  bread,  but  a  city  official.  In 
order  that  no  one  should  miss  seeing  this  inscription,  it  is  repeated 
on  several  sides  of  the  monument.  The  desire  for  fame  on  the 
part  of  the  builder  of  this  oven-tomb  has  surely  been  gratified,  for 
his  monument  has  stood  about  two  thousand  years,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  that  the  good  baker  is  still  inside  of  it. 

The  Roman  catacombs  are  very  famous,  and  we  all  know  that 
they  are  a  vast  collection  of  subterranean  passages  and  apartments 


GREAT  ROME  AGAIN.  7 1 

running  in  many  directions  underground,  some  far  under  the  others, 
and  forming  labyrinths  in  which  any  one  would  certainly  be  lost 
w^ho  should  venture  into  them  without  a  guide.  These  are  situated 
in  the  vast  plain  which  surrounds  Rome,  and  is  called  the  Cam- 
pagna  ;  and  some  of  these  catacombs  are  said  to  extend  so  far  that 
parts  of  them  are  under  the  city.  They  were  the  burial-places  of 
the  early  Christians,  and  in  them  they  also  used  to  hold  religious 
services,  when  they  were  so  persecuted  that  they  could  not  worship 
openly.  We  shall  visit  the  catacomb  of  Callistus,  which  is  the 
largest  one  ;  and  to  reach  it  we  go  out  over  the  famous  Appian 
Way,  a  great  military  road  built  by  the  Romans,  where  for  part  of 
the  distance  our  carriage  wheels  roll  over  the  very  stones  on  which 
the  Roman  chariots  used  to  be  driven  ;  and  as  these  chariots  had  no 
springs,  their  occupants  must  have  been  greatly  jolted,  although  the 
road  is  even  now  as  good  as  many  modern  paved  streets.  There  is 
a  line  of  heavy  curbstones  on  each  side,  and  the  narrowness  of  the 
road  and  the  marks  of  the  ancient  wheels  upon  the  stones  show  how 
much  wider  are  our  modern  vehicles  than  were  the  chariots  of  old. 
A  drive  out  on  this  Appian  Way  must  have  been  a  melancholy 
pleasure  to  the  ancient  Romans,  for  it  was  lined  on  each  sid-e  by 
miles  of  tombs,  many  of  them  very  handsome  edifices,  like  small 
castles  and  temples,  with  pillars  and  statuary.  Remains  of  these 
tombs  are  still  seen  on  each  side  of  the  road,  and  portions  of  some 
of  tliem  are  in  good  preservation ;  and  on  marble  slabs,  and  over 
little  porticos,  we  can  read  the  names  of  many  persons  who  were 
buried  here.  We  can  go  out  for  miles  on  this  road,  which  was  made 
three  hundred  years  before  Christ,  and  we  shall  find  the  Campagna 
very  interesting,  with  its  vast  expanse  of  green  pastures,  on  which 
we  see  herds  of  the  fine  Roman  oxen,  with  their  enormous  horns, 
sometimes  nearly  a  yard  long  ;  herdsmen  wandering  about  with 
their  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats  at  their  heels  ;  gentle  hills  covered 


72  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

with  wild  flowers  ;  and  over  all,  stretching  far  away,  long  lines  of 
stone  arches,  the  remains  of  ancient  Roman  aqueducts,  some  of 
which  are  in  such  good  condition  that  they  are  still  used  to  bring 
water  to  the  city. 

But  the  catacombs  we  are  to  visit  are  but  little  more  than  a 
mile  from  the  city  walls,  and  we  soon  reach  them.  At  a  small 
building  we  find  guides,  who  give  each  one  of  us  a  lighted  taper. 
Then  we  form  in  line,  and  go  down  a  long  flight  of  stone  steps  to 
the  doleful  depths  of  this  underground  labyrinth.  We  find  our- 
selves at  first  in  a  long  passage,  a  little  higher  than  our  heads,  and 
so  narrow  that  we  can  touch  each  side  of  it  by  stretching  out  our 
arms.  It  is  simply  dug  out  of  the  soft  rock  and  earth,  and  in  each 
of  its  walls  are  cavities,  one  above  the  other,  in  which  once  rested 
the  bodies  of  the  early  Christians.  Some  of  these  were  in  marble 
boxes,  or  sarcophagi,  and  others  more  rudely  buried.  But  very 
few  of  them  are  here  now.  Many  of  the  sculptured  marbles  have 
been  taken  to  the  Roman  museums,  and  thousands  of  the  bones  of 
the  early  Christians  have  been  carried  away  as  relics,  and  buried 
in  churches  all  over  Europe.  In  a  line,  each  holding  his  pale 
light,  we  follow  our  guides  through  the  long  passages  of  this 
dreary  place.  Occasionally,  as  I  have  said,  are  little  chambers  and 
chapels;  but  the  catacombs  consist,  for  the  most  part,  of  these 
narrow  earth  corridors,  absolutely  pitch-dark,  and  turning  and 
winding  in  every  imaginable  way.  It  is  necessary  that  those  at 
the  end  of  our  line  should  not  lag  behind,  for  if  they  were  to  lose 
sight  of  the  main  body  they  would  never,  of  themselves,  be  able  to 
find  it  again.  One  passage  looks  just  like  another,  and  there  are 
so  many  of  them  to  the  right  and  the  left,  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  an  inexperienced  person  to  know  when  he  should  go 
ahead  and  when  he  should  turn.  But  we  all  keep  together,  and 
after  a  long  underground  walk  we  at  last  come  out  into  the  day- 


GREAT  ROME  AGAIN.  JZ 


light,  in  a  spot  at  some  distance  from  that  where  we  went  in.  We 
have  gone  through  but  a  small  part  of  these  great  catacombs,  but 
it  has  been  quite  enough. 

There  are  other  kinds  of  burial-places  in  Rome,  but  we  shall 
visit  no  more  of  them,  though  they  give  us  ideas  in  regard  to  the 
manners  and  customs  of  bygone  people  which  we  could  get  in  no 
other  way. 

In  the  busy  and  lively  streets  of  modern  Rome  we  find  enough 
to  fill  up  all  the  time  we  can  spare  from  the  galleries  and  the 
antiquities.  There  are  hundreds  of  shops,  and  the  windows  are 
full  of  many  things  which  are  peculiar  to  Rome  ;  such  as  beau- 
tiful gold-work  of  intricate  and  delicate  patterns,  many-colored 
Roman  silken  scarfs  and  blankets,  great  ox-horns  beautifully 
polished  and  mounted  with  silver,  coral  made  into  every  imagi- 
nable ornament,  mosaics  and  cameos,  brilliant  water-color  draw- 
ings of  the  Roman  school,  and  no  end  of  small  bronzes  and  sculp- 
tures and  other  works  of  art.  Among  the  things  exhibited  are 
the  soft-colored  Roman  pearls  ;  and,  looking  through  some  of  the 
shop-windows,  we  can  see  women  at  work  making  these  pearls, 
for  they  are  manufactured  by  human  beings,  and  not  by  oysters. 
Each  pearl  is  made  on  the  end  of  a  piece  of  wire  like  a  knitting- 
needle.  Hundreds  of  these  needles,  with  pearls  on  the  ends,  some 
little  things  and  some  the  size*  they  are  going  to  be,  may  be  seen 
sticking  in  cushions,  while  women  and  girls  are  at  work  dipping 
other  wires  into  the  soft  composition  out  of  which  the  pearls  are 
made,  moulding  and  forming  them  into  the  proper  shape.  Every- 
where, too,  may  be  seen  men,  boys,  and  women  with  baskets  of 
tortoise-shell  ornaments,  of  fruits  and  flowers,  and  nearly  every 
imaginable  thing  to  sell  ;  and  foreign  visitors  have  sometimes  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  to  escape  from  these  energetic  street 
merchants. 


74  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

Many  of  the  streets  are  very  narrow,  and  have  no  sidewalks  ; 
and  when  we  are  walking  in  these  we  have  to  look  out  for  ourselves, 
for  there  is  no  one  else  who  will  do  it.  Carriao^es  and  waeons  come 
rattling  along,  expecting  every  one  to  get  out  of  their  way,  and 
sometimes  we  must  slip  into  doorways,  or  squeeze  ourselves  flat 
up  against  walls,  in  order  not  to  be  run  over.  Paving-stones  and 
people  all  appear  the  same  to  a  Roman  driver  ;  if  they  don't  get 
out  of  the  way  he  will  go  over  them.  Sometimes  when  I  have 
been  in  one  of  the  little  open  Roman  carriages,  it  has  almost  taken 
my  breath  away  to  see  the  driver  dash  into  the  midst  of  a  crowd 
of  people  ;  I  certainly  expected  that  somebody  would  be  knocked 
down,  but  I  never  saw  any  one  injured,  or  even  touched.  Practice 
makes  excellent  dodgers  of  Roman  foot-travellers.  The  fact  that 
it  is  against  the  law  to  get  in  the  way  of  a  vehicle  helps  to  make 
them  careful.  In  many  parts  of  Europe,  persons  who  are  knocked 
down  or  run  over  by  vehicles  are  fined  or  imprisoned. 

The  royal  palace  is  in  Rome,  and  the  king,  princes,  and  many 
of  the  other  nobles  live  in  or  near  the  city,  and  we  may  often  see 
their  handsome  equipages  in  the  streets  and  in  the  parks.  Very 
often  we  shall  meet  the  beautiful  Oueen  Marcjliarita,  who  is  a  p;ra- 
cious  and  pleasant  lady,  and  bows  to  the  people  as  if  she  knew 
them  all.  King  Humbert,  too,  is  constantly  to  be  met  on  fine 
afternoons.  He  is  very  fond  of  doing  his  own  driving,  and  as  he 
has  over  two  hundred  horses  in  his  stables,  he  can  always  have  a 
pair  to  suit  him.  It  is  harder  for  a  king  to  drive  than  for  any 
other  person  to  do  so.  He  must  hold  the  reins  and  guide  the 
horses,  he  must  also  hold  the  whip,  and  he  must  always  have  a  hand 
free  with  which  to  take  off  his  hat,  which  he  does  on  an  average 
three  times  a  minute.  If  ever  I  ride  behind  a  fractious  pair  of 
horses,  I  do  not  wish  a  king  to  drive  them. 

The  modern  Romans,  even  the  common  people,  have  a  proud  and 


GREAT  ROME  AGAIN.  75 


dignified  air.  They  seem  to  have  preserved  something  of  the  spirit 
of  their  ancestors.  The  men  are  very  fond  of  long  cloaks,  a  corner 
of  which  they  throw  over  the  left  shoulder  as  the  old  Romans  did 
their  togas.  It  is  quite  amusing  to  see  a  letter-carrier  delivering 
the  mail,  with  his  cloak  thrown  around  him  in  this  martial  way.  As 
for  people  who  are  truly  martial,  there  are  plenty  of  them  to  be 
seen  in  Rome.  Soldiers  are  everywhere  ;  handsomely  dressed  offi- 
cers among  the  people  on  the  sidewalks  ;  private  soldiers,  singly  or 
two  or  three  together,  hurrying  hither  and  thither  on  all  sorts  of 
errands;  and  very  often  a  regiment,  with  a  band,  marching  along 
at  a  quick  rate,  as  if  something  were  about  to  happen,  every  man 
with  his  rifle  and  his  knapsack,  and  a  whole  cock's  tail  of  feathers  in 
his  hat. 

As  I  have  said  before,  the  Italian  Government  is  busily  carry- 
ing on  the  work  of  excavating  the  ruins  of  ancient  Rome,  and 
among  the  most  interesting  of  these  are  the  remains  of  the  old 
Roman  Forum,  where  the  most  important  of  the  public  buildings 
and  temples  stood,  and  where  assemblies  of  the  people  were  held. 
We  shall  wander  for  hours  about  this  great  open  space,  which  is 
not  far  from  the  Colosseum  ;  we  shall  see  the  triumphal  arch  of 
Septimius  Severus  ;  the  remains  of  temples  with  some  of  their  beau- 
tiful sculptured  pillars  still  standing,  tall  and  strong  ;  the  narrow 
streets,  with  their  pavements  of  wide  flag-stones,  in  which  are  the 
deep  ruts  worn  by  the  old  Roman  wheels.  These  stones  are  marked 
in  some  places  with  circles,  on  which  are  indicated  the  points  of 
the  compass.  On  one  side  of  the  Forum  is  the  lower  part  of  the 
Basilica  Julia,  a  great  public  building  erected  by  Julius  Csesar,  with 
its  long  line  of  steps,  'the  marble  floors  of  its  corridors,  and  some  of 
its  mosaic  pavement  still  remaining.  In  these  corridors  we  shall 
see,  scratched  on  the  marble  slabs  of  the  floor,  squares  and  circles 
on  which  the  Roman  boys  and  men  used  to  playgames  while  idling 


76  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

outside  the  halls  of  justice.  Near  one  of  the  temples  is  a  broad 
platform  from  which  orators  addressed  the  people.  Here  Marc 
Antony  stood  when  he  pronounced  the  oration  over  the  body  of 
the  murdered  Caesar  ;  and,  if  we  examine  the  place,  we  shall  find 
that,  near  the  edge  of  the  low  platform  of  stone,  some  of  the  great 
slabs  are  much  worn.  This  was  the  best  position  for  the  speakers, 
and  it  must  have  required  the  sandals  of  generations  of  orators  to 
so  rub  down  and  wear  away  the  stones.  It  is  probable  that  it  was 
on  this  very  spot  Marc  Antony  stood  ;  and  if  any  of  the  boys  think 
that  to  take  his  place  would  inspire  them  with  eloquence,  they  have 
but  to  stand  there  and  try.  Near  by  is  the  triumphal  arch  of  Titus, 
which  he  erected  when  he  returned  victorious  from  Jerusalem  ;  and 
among  the  other  sculptures  on  it  we  can  still  see,  very  clear  and 
plain,  the  great  seven-branched  golden  candlestick  which  he  carried 
away  from  Solomon's  Temple. 

A  few  steps  from  this  brings  us  to  the  entrance  of  the  palaces 
of  the  Caesars.  These  are  the  remains  of  the  palaces  built  by  the 
Roman  emperors,  and  they  cover  a  large  extent  of  ground.  Of 
some  of  them,  all  the  upper  parts  are  gone,  nothing  remaining  but 
portions  of  walls  and  marble  floors  and  fragments  of  sculptured 
columns  ;  while  of  others  there  are  still  many  archways,  corridors, 
and  apartments.  On  the  grounds  is  a  small  house  with  some  of  the 
rooms  nearly  perfect,  in  which  are  to  be  seen  the  paintings  on 
the  walls  and  the  leaden  pipes  by  which  the  water  was  brought  in. 
Everywhere  there  are  remains  of  beautiful  marbles  and  sculptures. 
At  one  end  of  the  grounds  is  2i  pee  dago ghtin,  or  schoolhouse.  Here 
are  several  rooms,  on  the  walls  of  which  can  be  seen  caricatures  and 
inscriptions  made  by  the  Roman  boys.  They  are  scratched  with  a 
steel  stylus,  which  they  used  for  writing.  Some  of  the  pictures  are 
quite  good,  and  a  number  of  the  names  of  the  scholars  are  to 
be  seen. 


GREAT  ROME  AGAIN.  'J 7 

We  shall  wander  a  long  time  over  these  palatial  grounds,  and 
in  one  place  we  shall  see  a  small  stone  altar  with  an  inscription  on 
it  statinor  that  it  was  erected  to  the  Unknown  God. 

All  about  this  part  of  Rome  are  ruins  of  other  immense  and 
costly  buildings  erected  by  the  Roman  emperors.  A  moderate  walk 
will  bring  us  to  the  remains  of  the  lower  part  of  the  celebrated 
Golden  House  of  Nero,  where  we  may  wander  through  many  great 
vaulted  corridors  and  rooms.  The  Emperor  Nero,  as  we  all  know, 
was  as  wicked  a  man  as  ever  lived,  and  did  all  the  injury  to  his 
fellow-beings  that  it  was  possible  for  him  to  do  ;  but  I  used  to 
think,  and  I  suppose  everybody  agreed  with  me,  that  the  time  had 
long  since  passed  when  he  could  cause  injury  to  any  one.  Yet 
when  I  was  visiting  these  ruins,  which  in  places  are  very  damp  and 
wet,  I  caught  quite  a  bad  cold,  and  for  about  a  week  I  was  very 
severe  on  Nero.  Who  could  imagine  that  anything  he  had  done 
would  have  injured  a  peaceful  American  of  the  nineteenth  century! 
But  the  influence  of  the  wicked  is  far-reaching. 

Over  the  ruins  of  this  Golden  House,  which  must  have  been  a 
magnificent  pahice,  the  Emperor  Titus  erected  baths,  of  which  we 
may  still  see  portions  ;  but  these  are  nothing  to  the  grand  remains 
of  the  Baths  of  Caracalla,  where  we  shall  spend  an  hour  or  two. 
This  was  an  immense  and  magnificent  building,  capable  of  accom- 
modating sixteen  hundred  bathers.  A  great  part  of  its  tall  walls  are 
still  standing,  and  here  we  can  walk  through  the  immense  rooms, 
some  still  retaining  portions  of  their  beautiful  mosaic  pavements, 
and  we  may  even  go  down  into  the  cellars,  where  are  still  to  be  seen 
the  furnaces  by  which  the  water  was  heated.  There  was  prob- 
ably never  in  the  world  so  grand  and  luxurious  a  bath-house  as 
this.  It  had  great  halls  for  promenading  and  recreation,  and  a 
race-course  ;  and  in  it  were  found  some  of  the  most  valuable  statues 
of  antiquity. 


7S 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


Many  of  us  will  be  surprised  to  hnd  the  greater  part  of  the 
Roman  ruins  of  brick.  This  brick-work  is  of  so  good  a  quality 
that  it  has  lasted  almost  as  well  as  stone.  The  marble  outside  of 
most  of  these  walls  has  long  since  been  carried  away.     Some  of 


IN   THE   BORGH^.SE    VIIXA    GARDENS. 


the  more  important  buildings,  however,  are  of  stone,  and  there  are 
some  beautiful  marble  pillars  and  porticos  still  standing. 

We  all  have  heard  the  statement  that  Rome  was  not  built  in  a 
day,  and  we  shall  find  out  for  ourselves  that  it  takes  a  great  many 
days  to  see  it,  even  if  we  only  glance  at  things  which  we  should  like 


GREAT  ROME  AGAIN.  79 


to  examine  and  enjoy  for  hours.  But  we  shall  try  to  use  profitably 
all  the  time  we  have  to  spend  here,  in  this  old  city,  great  in  ancient 
times,  great  in  the  Dark  and  Middle  Ages,  and  great  now.  We 
shall  visit  very  many  churches,  each  different  from  the  others,  and 
each  containing  some  interesting  painting  or  possessing  some  archi- 
tectural beauties  which  make  it  famous.  Amono-  these  are  the  Pan- 
theon,  a  circular  church,  formerly  a  pagan  temple,  still  perfect,  and 
lighted  by  the  same  great  round  opening  in  the  roof,  through  which 
the  rain  came  in  the  days  of  Julius  Csesar  just  as  it  does  now.  Here 
Raphael,  Victor  Emmanuel,  and  other  celebrated  men  are  buried. 
We  must  also  see  the  church  of  St.  John  Lateran,  with  an  extensive 
building  attached  which  for  a  thousand  years  was  the  palace  of  the 
popes,  but  is  now  an  interesting  museum  ;  and  Santa  Maria  Mag- 
giore,  with  its  beautiful  chapels  ;  and  the  Borghese  villa,  and  its 
beautiful  gardens,  filled  with  works  of  art  ;  and  we  must  not  fail 
to  visit  the  magnificent  new  church  of  St.  Paul's,  outside  the 
walls,  the  finest  religious  edifice  of  recent  times,  the  vast  marble 
floor  of  which,  as  smooth  and  brigrht  as  a  lake  of  elistenine  ice, 
is  worth  coming  to  see,  even  if  there  were  no  mosaics,  and  no 
cloisters  with  splendid  marbles  and  columns,  and  pillars  and  altars 
of  alabaster  and  malachite  sent  from  sovereigns  of  Europe  and 
Africa. 

And  very  different  from  all  this  is  what  we  see  in  the  Jewish 
quarter  of  Rome,  where  the  narrow  streets  are  crowded  with  men, 
women,  and  children,  each  one  with  something  to  sell  ;  while  the 
fronts  of  the  houses  are  nearly  covered  with  old  clothes  hung 
against  them,  and  where  there  are  dingy  little  shops  crowded 
with  bric-a-brac  and  all  sorts  of  odd  things,  some  of  which  we 
shall  like  to  take  home  with  us — but  must  be  careful  how  we 
bargain. 

There   is   more,   more,  more,   to  be  seen   in   Rome  and   in  the 


So  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

beautiful  villages  near  by,  but  we  can  stay  no  longer  now  :  so  we 
will  all  go  to  the  Fountain  of  Trevi,  each  of  us  will  take  a  drink 
of  water,  and  each  of  us  will  throw  a  small  coin  into  the  pool; 
for  there  is  a  legend  which  says  that  people  who  do  this  when 
they  are  leaving  Rome  will  be  sure  to  come  to  this  wonderful 
city  again. 


V. 

AROUND    THE    BAY    OF    NAPLES. 

EVERY  one  of  us  who  has  ever  read  anything  at  all  about  Italy 
will  remember  that  the  Bay  of  Naples  is  considered  one  of 
the  loveliest  pieces  of  water  in  the  world.     It  is  not  its  beauty 
only  which  attracts  us  :  it  is  surrounded  by  interesting  and  most 
curious  places,  and  some  of  these  we  shall  now  visit. 

Although  Naples  is  the  most  populous  city  of  Italy,  it  will  not 
take  us  very  long  to  see  it  as  it  is,  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  see. 
Her  people  have  always  lived  for  the  present ;  they  have  never 
occupied  themselves  with  great  works  of  art  or  architecture  for 
future  ages  ;  and  the  consequence  is,  that,  unlike  the  other  cities  of 
Italy,  it  offers  us  few  interesting  mementos  of  the  past.  Some  of 
you  may  like  this,  and  may  be  much  better  satisfied  to  see  how  the 
Neapolitan  enjoys  himself  to-day  than  to  know  how  he  used  to  do 
it  a  thousand  years  ago.  If  that  is  the  case,  all  you  have  to  do  is 
to  open  your  eyes  and  look  about  you.  Naples  is  one  of  the  noisi- 
est, liveliest  cities  in  the  world.  The  people  are  very  fond  of  the 
open  air,  and  they  are  in  the  streets  all  day,  and  nearly  all  night. 
The  shoemaker  brings  his  bench  out  on  the  sidewalk  and  sits  there 
merrily  mending  his  shoes.  Women  come  out  in  front  of  their 
houses  and  sew,  take  care  of  their  babies,  and  often  make  their 
bread  and  cook  their  dinners  in  the  open  street.  In  the  streets  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  women,  and  children,  work,  play,  buy, 
sell,  walk,  talk,  sing,  or  cry  ;  here  the  carriages  are  driven  furi- 
ously up  and  down,  the  drivers  cracking  their  whips  and  shouting  ; 

6 


82 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


^','.';j*l?^ 


Pr*. 


here  move  about  the  Httle  donkeys,  with  piles  of  vegetables  or 
freshly  cut  grass  upon  their  backs,  so  that  nothing  but  their  heads 
and  feet  are  seen  ;  and  here  are  to  be  found  noise  enough  and  dirt 
enough  to  make  some  people  very  soon  satisfied  with  their  walks 
through  the  streets  of  Naples. 

The  greatest  attraction  of  Naples  is  its  famous  museum,  which 

contains  more  valuable  sculp- 
tures and  works  of  art  and 
more  rare  and  curious  things 
than  we  could  look  at  in  a 
week.  There  is  nothing  in 
it,  however,  which  will  inter- 
est us  so  much  as  the  bronze 
figures,  the  wall-paintings, 
the  ornaments,  domestic  uten- 
sils, and  other  objects,  which 
have  been  taken  out  of  the 
ruins  of  the  buried  cities  of 
Pompeii  and  Herculaneum.  The  collection  of  these  thino-s  is 
immense,  for  nearly  everything  that  has  been  dug  from  the  ruins 
since  the  excavations  began  has  been  brought  to  this  museum. 
Some  of  the  bronze  statues  are  wonderfully  beautiful  and  life-like  ; 
and  such  figures  as  the  "  Narcissus"  from  Pompeii  or  the  ''  Repos- 
ing Mercury  "  from  Herculaneum  have  seldom  been  surpassed  by 
sculptors  of  any  age.  There  are  many  rooms  filled  with  things  that 
give  us  a  good  idea  of  how  the  Pompeiians  used  to  live.  Here  are 
pots,  kettles,  pans,  knives,  saws,  hammers,  and  nearly  every  kind 
of  domestic  utensil,  and  all  sorts  of  tools.  There  is  even  a  very 
complete  set  of  instruments  used  by  a  dentist.  In  one  of  the  cases 
is  a  bronze  bell  with  its  cord  hanging  outside,  by  which,  if  we 
choose,  we  may  produce   the   same   tinkle  which    used   to   summon 


SMALL   SHOPS   IN   NAPT.ES. 


AROUND    THE  BAY  OF  NAPLES.  83 

some  Pompeiian  servant  to  her  mistress.  Little  furnaces,  bath- 
tubs, money-chests,  and  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  other  articles, 
some  of  which  look  as  if  quite  good  enough  for  us  to  use,  meet  our 
eyes  at  every  turn.  In  another  room  there  are  many  cases  con- 
taininof  articles  of  food  which  have  been  taken  from  the  houses  of 
Pompeii.  The  loaves  of  bread,  the  beans,  the  wheat,  and  many 
other  articles,  are  much  shrunken  and  discolored  ;  but  the  eggs  look 
just  as  white  and  natural  as  when  they  were  boiled,  eighteen  cen- 
turies ago. 

The  sight  of  all  these  things  makes  us  anxious  to  see  the  city 
that  was  so  long  buried  out  of  sight  of  the  world,  and  only  brought 
to  light  again  about  a  hundred  years  ago.  A  short  ride  by  railway 
takes  us  from  Naples  to  Pompeii,  and,  after  being  furnished  with 
guides,  we  set  out  to  explore  this  silent  little  city,  whose  citizens 
have  not  walked  its  streets  since  the  year  79  a.d. 

This  unfortunate  place,  which,  as  you  all  know,  was  entirely 
overwhelmed  and  covered  up  by  a  terrible  shower  of  ashes  during  an 
eruption  of  Vesuvius,  at  the  base  of  which  it  lies,  is  now  in  great 
part  uncovered  and  open  to  view.  The  excavations  which  have 
been  made  at  different  timies  since  1748  have  laid  bare  a  great  many 
of  the  streets,  houses,  temples,  and  public  buildings.  All  the  roofs, 
however,  with  the  exception  of  that  belonging  to  one  sniall  edifice, 
are  gone,  having  been  burned  or  crushed  in  by  the  hot  ashes.  We 
shall  find,  however,  the  lower  parts  and  the  courts  of  nearly  all  the 
houses  still  standing,  and  many  of  them  in  good  condition.  The 
first  thing  which  excites  our  surprise  is  the  extreme  narrowness  of 
the  streets.  They  all  are  well  paved  with  large  stones,  and  many 
of  them  have  raised  sidewalks,  which  leave  barely  room  enough 
between  for  two  chariots  or  narrow  wagons  to  pass  each  other. 
Here  and  there  are  high  stepping-stones,  by  which  the  Pompeiians 
crossed  the  streets  in  rainy  weather,  when   there  must  have  been  a 


84  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

great  deal  of  running  water  in  these  narrow  roadways.  Every- 
where we  see  the  ruts  which  the  wheels  have  worn  in  the  hard 
stones. 

There  are  remains  of  a  great  many  private  houses  ;  and  some 
of  these  which  belonged  to  rich  people  have  their  walls  handsomely 
ornamented  with  paintings,  some  of  them  quite  bright  and  distinct, 
considering  the  long  time  that  has  elapsed  since  they  were  made. 
There  are  also  a  great  many  shops,  all  of  them  very  small ;  and  in 
some  of  these  still  remain  the  marble  counters  with  the  jars  that 
held  the  wines  and  other  things  which  were  there  for  sale.  In  a 
bakery  there  remain  some  ovens,  and  large  stone  mills  worked  by 
hand-power  or  by  donkeys.  Along  street  after  street  we  go,  and 
into  house  after  house.  We  enter  large  baths  with  great  marble 
tanks  and  arrangements  for  steam  heating.  We  visit  temples,  one 
of  which,  the  Temple  of  Isis,  bears  an  inscription  stating  that, 
having  been  greatly  injured  by  an  earthquake  in  the  year  63,  it  was 
restored  at  the  sole  expense  of  a  boy  six  years  old,  named  N.  Popi- 
dius  Celsinus.  There  are  two  theatres,  and  a  great  amphitheatre, 
or  outdoor  circus,  besides  an  extensive  forum,  or  place  for  public 
meetings.  The  more  we  walk  through  these  quiet  and  deserted 
streets,  and  into  these  desolate  houses,  the  shorter  seem  to  us  the 
eighteen  centuries  that  have  passed  since  any  one  lived  here.  It  is 
scarcely  possible  to  believe  that  it  has  been  so  long  since  these 
mills  were  turned,  these  ovens  in  use,  or  people  came  in  and  out 
of  these  shops.  In  some  places  there  are  inscriptions  on  the  walls 
calling  on  the  citizens  to  vote  for  such  and  such  a  person  for  a 
public  office. 

A  building  has  been  erected  as  a  museum,  and  in  this  are  pre- 
served plaster  casts  of  some  of  the  people  who  perished  in  the  erup- 
tion. These  people  were  covered  up  by  the  fine  ashes  just  where 
they  fell,  and  in  the  positions  in  which  they  died.    These  ashes  hard- 


AROUND   THE  BAY  OF  NAPLES. 


85 


ened,  and  although  the  bodies,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  bones, 
entirely  disappeared  in  the  course  of  ages,  the  hollow  places  left  in 
the  ashes  were  exactly  the  shape  of  the  forms  and  features  of  the 
persons  who  had  been  there.      An  ingenious  Italian  conceived  the 


BOYS   AT   WORK   IN   THE   EXCAVATIONS   OF   POMPEII. 


idea  of  boring  into  these  hollow  moulds  and  filling  them  up  with 
liquid  plaster  of  Paris.  When  this  became  dry  and  hard,  the  ashes 
were  removed,  and  there  were  the  plaster  images  of  the  persons 
who  had  been  overtaken  and  destroyed  before  they  could  escape 
from  that  terrible  storm  of  hot  ashes,  which  came  down  in  quanti- 
ties sufficient  to  cover  a  whole  city  from  sight.  In  some  of  these 
figures  the  features  are  very  distinct,  and  we  can  even  distinguish 


86  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

the  texture  of  their  clothes  and  the  rings  upon  their  fingers.  There 
are  eight  of  these  figures — men,  women,  and  girls — besides  the  cast 
of  a  large  dog.  To  stand  and  look  upon  the  exact  representation 
of  these  poor  creatures  who  perished  here,  takes  us  back,  more 
forcibly  than  anything  else,  to  the  days  when  Pompeii  was  a  lively, 
bustling  city.  Could  this  poor  man  with  the  leather  belt  around 
his  waist,  or  this  young  girl  with  so  peaceful  an  expression,  have 
fallen  down  and  died  in  these  positions  just  forty-six  years  after 
the  death  of  Christ  ? 

We  may  walk  until  we  are  tired,  and  we  cannot  in  one  visit 
properly  see  all  that  is  interesting  in  the  excavated  portions  of 
Pompeii ;  and  there  is  so  much  of  the  little  city  yet  covered  up, 
that,  if  the  work  of  excavation  goes  on  at  the  present  rate,  it  will  be 
about  seventy  years  before  the  whole  of  Pompeii  is  laid  open  to 
the  light.  Men  are  kept  steadily  at  work  clearing  out  the  ruins, 
and  it  may  be  that  we  are  fortunate  enough  to  be  the  first  visitors 
to  see  some  little  room  with  painted  walls,  or  some  jar  or  piece  of 
sculpture  from  which  the  ashes  and  earth  have  just  been  removed, 
and  which  the  eye  of  man  has  not  seen  since  the  first  century  of 
the  Christian  era. 

It  is  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  after  we  have  explored 
this  ruined  citv,  to  desire  to  visit  the  volcano  which  ruined  it. 
There  it  stands,  the  same  old  Vesuvius,  just  as  able  to  cover  up 
towns  and  villaees  with  rivers  of  lava  and  clouds  of  ashes  as  it  ever 
was.  Fortunately  it  does  not  often  choose  to  do  so,  and  it  is  upon 
the  good-natured  laziness  of  their  mountain  that  the  people  who 
live  in  the  plains  all  about  it,  and  even  on  its  sides,  depend  for  their 
lives  and  safety.  There  are  few  parts  of  the  world  more  thickly 
settled  than  the  country  about  Vesuvius. 

The  ascent  of  the  mountain  can  be  best  made  from  Naples 
because  we  can  go  nearly  all  the  way  by  railroad.      Vesuvius  is  not 


AROUND   THE  BAY  OF  NAPLES. 


87 


always  the  same  height,  as  the  great  cone  of  ashes  which  forms 
its  summit  varies  somewhat  before  and  after  eruptions.  It  is  gen- 
erally about  four  thousand  feet  high,  although  a  great  eruption  in 
1872  is  said  to  have  knocked  off  a  large  part  of  its  top.     At  pres- 


VIEVV   OF   EXCAVATED    PORTION   OF   POMPEII,  LOOKING   NORTHWEST. 


ent  it  is  steadily  increasing,  because,  although  there  have  been  no 
great  eruptions  lately,  the  crater  is  constantly  working,  and  throw- 
ing out  stones  and  ashes.  Still  there  is  no  danger  if  we  are  careful, 
and  we  shall  go  up  and  see  what  the  crater  of  a  real  live  volcano 
looks  like.     The  last  part  of  our  trip  is  made  on  what  is  called  a 


88  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

funicular  railway,  which  runs  nearly  to  the  top  of  the  great  central 
cone,  fifteen  hundred  feet  high,  on  which  the  cars  are  drawn  up  by 
wire  ropes.  This  railway,  however,  does  not  take  us  quite  all  the 
way,  and  there  are  some  hundred  feet  of  loose  ashes  up  which  we 
must  walk  before  we  reach  the  top.  The  way  is  very  steep,  we 
sometimes  sink  into  the  ashes  nearly  up  to  our  knees,  and  alto- 
gether it  is  a  piece  of  very  tough  work.  But,  if  any  of  us  feel 
unequal  to  it,  we  can  be  taken  up  in  chairs,  each  borne  by  two  stout 
porters.  We  cannot  be  sure  what  we  are  going  to  see  when  we 
are  at  the  summit  :  smoke  and  vapor  are  constantly  arising  from 
the  crater,  and  sometimes  the  wind  blows  this  toward  us,  and  makes 
it  impossible  to  see  into  the  great  abyss  ;  but  at  other  times  we 
may  approach  quite  near,  and  see  the  smoke  and  steam  rising  from 
below,  while  stones  and  masses  of  lava  are  thrown  into  the  air  and 
fall  back  into  the  crater.  The  ground  in  some  places  is  so  hot  that 
eggs  may  be  roasted  by  simply  allowing  them  to  lie  upon  it.  If  we 
are  not  careful,  some  of  us  will  have  the  soles  of  our  shoes  badly 
burned  by  walking  over  these  hot  places.  .  The  sight  of  this  great 
crater  always  burning,  and  smoking,  and  seething,  and  sometimes 
throwing  the  light  of  great  fires  up  from  below,  is  enough  to  make 
some  people  nervous  ;  but  unless  we  go  too  near  the  edge,  or 
expose  ourselves  to  the  fumes  of  the  sulphurous  gas  which  arises 
from  the  depths  below,  there  is  no  particular  danger  on  the  top  of 
Vesuvius.  If  the  weather  is  fine,  we  get  a  grand  view  of  the  bay 
and  the  country  around  about  ;  and  even  if  we  have  been  fright- 
ened or  tired,  or  have  to  get  a  pair  of  new  shoes  when  we  go  down 
the  mountain,  the  fact  that  we  have  looked  into  the  crater  of  an 
active  volcano  is  something  that  we  shall  always  remember  with 
satisfaction. 

As  long  as  we  are  anywhere  on  the   Bay  of  Naples  we  need 
never  expect  to  be  rid  of  Vesuvius  ;  and,  indeed,  we  need  not  wish 


AROUND   THE  BAY  OF  NAPLES.  89 

to,  for  by  day  and  night  it  is  one  of  the  finest  features  of  the  land- 
scape. The  people  in  Naples  and  all  the  surrounding  country 
justly  consider  it  the  greatest  attraction  to  travellers.  Every  hotel- 
keeper,  no  matter  how  little  his  house  is,  or  where  it  is  situated, 
has  a  picture  made  of  it  with  Vesuvius  smoking  away  in  the  back- 
ground. The  poor  mountain  is  thus  moved  about  from  place  to 
place,  without  any  regard  to  its  own  convenience,  in  order  that 
tourists  may  know  that,  if  they  come  to  any  one  of  these 
hotels,  they  may  alv/ays  have  a  good  view  of  a  grand  volcano. 

One  of  our  excursions  will  be  a  drive  alontr  the  eastern  shore 
of  the  bay  to  the  little  town  of  Sorrento,  and  we  shall  find  the  road 
over  which  we  go  one  of  the  most  beautiful,  if  not  the  most  beauti- 
ful, that  we  have  ever  seen  in  our  lives.  On  one  side  are  the 
mountains  and  hills  covered  with  orange  and  lemon  groves,  olive 
and  pomegranate  trees,  and  vineyards  ;  and  on  the  other,  the  beau- 
tiful blue  waters  of  the  bay,  with  its  distant  islands  raising  their 
misty  purple  outlines  against  the  cloudless  sky.  Sorrento,  the  home 
of  wood-carving,  as  many  of  you  may  know,  was  a  favorite  sum- 
mer resort  of  the  ancients,  and  the  old  Romans  used  to  come  here 
for  sea-bathing.  Near  by  are  the  rocks  on  which,  according  to 
ancient  tradition,  the  sirens  used  to  sit  and  sing,  for  the  sole  pur- 
pose, so  far  as  we  have  been  able  to  discover,  of  exciting  the  atten- 
tion of  the  sailors  on  passing  ships,  and  attracting  them  to  the 
rocks  where  they  might  be  wrecked.  We  can  get  boats  and  row 
beneath  these  very  rocks,  but  never  a  siren  shall  we  see  ;  although 
there  are  great  caves  into  which  the  water  flows,  and  into  the 
gloomy  and  solemn  depths  of  which  we  can  row  for  quite  a  long 
distance,  and  imagine,  if  we  please,  that  the  sirens  are  hiding  behind 
the  rocks  in  the  dark  corners,  but  knowing  very  well  that,  as  we 
have  heard  about  their  tricks  and  their  manners,  it  will  be  of  no 
use  for  them  to  sing  their  songs  to  us.      Even  now  the  people  of 


QO  PERSONALLV  CONDUCTED. 

Sorrento  have  fancies  of  this  sort,  and  many  believe  that  the  ravines 
near  the  town  are  inhabited  by  dwarfs.  There  are  a  great  many 
interesting  and  pleasant  things  about  Sorrento  ;  but,  after  all,  the 
object  which  we  shall  look  at  the  most  and  find  the  most  enjoyable 
is  our  friend  Vesuvius.  The  great  volcano  is  many  miles  from  us 
now,  but  as  long  as  we  are  in  this  bay  we  cannot  avoid  it.  All  day 
it  sends  up  its  beautiful  curling  column  of  steam,  which  rises  high 
into  the  air  and  spreads  out  like  a  great  white  tree  against  the  sky, 
while  at  night  this  high  canopy  of  vapors  is  lighted  at  intervals  to 
a  rosy  brightness  by  flashes  of  lire  from  the  crater  below.  And 
from  this  point  of  view  the  volcano  shows  us  at  night  another 
grand  sight.  Not  very  far  below  the  summit  four  streams  of  lava 
have  broken  out,  and,  after  runnino-  some  distance  down  the  moun- 
tain-side,  flow  again  into  the  ground  and  disappear.  At  night  we 
can  see  that  these  lava  streams  are  red-hot,  and,  viewed  from  afar, 
they  look  like  four  great  rivers  of  fire.  For  months  these  have 
been  steadily  flowing,  and  after  a  time  they  will  disappear,  and 
the  mountain  will  set  itself  to  work  to  devise  some  other  kind  of 
fireworks  with  which  to  light  up  the  nightly  scene. 

From  Sorrento  we  shall  take  a  little  steamer  to  the  island  of 
Capri,  in  the  most  southern  part  of  the  bay.  The  town  has  no 
wharves  at  which  a  steamboat  can  lie,  so  we  take  small  boats  and 
row  out  to  wait  for  the  steamboat  which  comes  from  Naples  and 
stops  here.  The  poet  Tasso  was  born  in  Sorrento,  and  as  we  row 
along  the  river-front  of  the  town,  the  greater  part  of  which  is 
perched  upon  the  rocks  high  above  the  water,  we  shall  float  directly 
over  his  house,  or  rather  the  foundations  of  it,  which  we  can  see  a 
few  feet  below  us  through  the  clear,  transparent  water.  Once  the 
town  extended  much  farther  into  the  bay  than  it  does  now ;  year  by 
year  the  water  encroached  upon  the  land,  and  now  there  are  but 
few  places  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff  where  there  is  room  for  houses. 


AROUND   THE  BAY  OF  NAPLES.  91 

While  we  are  waiting  here,  several  boats  filled  with  Italian  boys, 
some  of  them  very  little  fellows,  row  out  to  us,  and  sing  songs  and 
choruses  for  our  benefit,  hoping  for  coppers  in  return.  The  little 
fellows  sing  with  great  vivacity,  keeping  admirable  time,  and  clap- 
ping their  hands  and  wagging  their  heads,  as  if  they  were  fired  with 
the  spirit  of  their  songs.  They  are  not  at  all  like  sirens,  but 
they  will  charm  some  money  from  us  ;  and  when  we  seem  to  have 
had  enough  music,  they  will  offer  to  dive  into  the  water  after  copper 
coins,  each  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  white  paper  so  that  they  can  see 
it  as  it  sinks.  While  engaged  in  this  sport,  the  steamboat  comes 
up,  the  steps  are  let  down,  we  climb  on  board,  and  are  off  for 
Capri. 

This  island  has  long  been  noted  for  two  things — its  Blue  Grotto 
and  its  pretty  girls.  We  shall  have  to  take  some  trouble  to  see  the 
first,  but  the  latter  will  spare  themselves  no  trouble  to  see  us,  as 
we  shall  presently  find.  It  is  not  often  that  any  one  examines 
an  island  so  thoroughly  as  to  go  under  it,  over  it,  and  around 
it ;  but  this  we  shall  do  at  Capri,  and  we  shall  begin  by  going 
under  it. 

It  is  only  when  the  weather  is  fine  and  the  sea  is  smooth  that  the 
celebrated  Blue  Grotto  can  be  visited;  and,  as  everybody  who  goes 
to  the  island  desires  to  see  this  freak  of  nature,  the  steamboat, 
when  the  weather  is  favorable,  proceeds  directly  to  the  grotto.  We 
steam  for  a  mile  or  two  along  the  edge  of  the  island,  which  appears 
like  a  great  mountain-top  rising  out  of  the  water,  and  come  to  a 
stop  near  a  rocky  precipice.  At  the  foot  of  this  we  see  a  little  hole, 
about  a  yard  high,  and  somewhat  wider.  Near  by  lie  a  number  of 
small  boats,  each  rowed  by  one  man,  and,  as  soon  as  our  steamboat 
nears  the  place,  these  boats  are  pulled  toward  us  with  all  the  power 
of  their  oarsmen,  jostling  and  banging  against  each  other,  while  the 
men  shout  and  scold  as  each  endeavors  to  be  the  first  to  reach  the 


92  PERSONALLV  CONDUCTED. 


steamboat.  In  these  boats  we  are  to  enter  the  grotto,  three  of  us 
in  each,  that  being  the  greatest  number  they  are  allowed  to  carry. 
When  we  go  down  the  side  and  step  into  the  boats,  we  are  told  that 
we  must  all  lie  down  flat  in  the  bottom;  for,  if  our  heads  or  shoul- 
ders are  above  the  sides  of  the  boat,  they  may  get  an  awkward 
knock  in  going  through  the  hole  in  the  rock,  which  is  the  only 
entrance  to  the  grotto.  As  one  boat  after  another  pushes  off  from 
the  steamer,  the  girls  will  probably  nestle  down  very  closely;  but  I 
think  most  of  the  boys  will  keep  their  faces  turned  upwards,  and  at 
least  one  eye  open  to  see  what  is  going  to  happen.  The  water  of 
the  bay  seemed  quite  smooth  when  we  were  on  the  steamboat,  but 
there  is  some  wind,  and  we  now  find  that  the  waves  are  running 
tolerably  high  against  the  rocky  precipice  before  us,  and  dashing 
in  and  out  of  the  hole  which  we  are  to  enter.  As  we  approach  this 
opening,  the  first  boat  is  pulled  rapidly  toward  it ;  but  a  wave  which 
has  just  gone  in  now  comes  rolling  out,  driving  the  boat  back,  and 
bumping  it  against  the  others.  Some  of  us  are  frightened,  and  wish 
we  were  safe  again  on  the  steamboat;  but  there  is  no  danger:  these 
boatmen  are  very  skilful,  and  if  one  of  them  were  to  allow  his  boat 
to  upset,  he  would  lose  his  reputation  forever.  Again  the  boat  is 
pulled  forward,  this  time  with  an  in-going  wave  ;  and,  as  it  reaches 
the  entrance,  the  man  jerks  in  his  oars,  seizes  the  roof  and  sides  of 
the  aperture  with  his  hands,  and  with  much  dexterity  and  strength 
shoots  his  boat  into  the  Q^rotto.  One  after  another,  each  boat 
enters,  and,  as  we  all  sit  up  and  look  about  us,  we  find  ourselves  in 
a  strange  and  wonderful  place.  It  was  worth  while  to  be  frightened 
and  jostled  a  little  to  be  in  such  a  grand  sea-grotto  as  this.  The 
floor  is  a  wide  expanse  of  light  blue  water,  not  rough  like  the  bay 
outside,  but  gently  agitated  by  the  waves  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave, 
and  every  ripple  flecked  with  silvery  light.  Each  boat,  as  it  moves 
through  the  water,  has  an  edging  of  this  rippling  light,  which  drips 


AROUXD    THE  BAY  OF  NAPLES. 


93 


and  falls  from  the  oars  whenever  they  are  raised.  The  grotto  is 
quite  large,  and  over  all  is  a  domed  roof  of  rock,  and  this  twinkles 
and  sparkles  with  bluish  light.  It  is,  indeed,  what  it  has  been 
named — a  blue  grotto.  We  naturally  wonder  where  all  this  blue 
light  comes  from.  There  are  no  openings  in  the  roof  above,  and, 
as  we  look  over  toward  the  dark  hole  by  which  we  came  in,  we  see 


THK    BLLK    GROTTO,    ISLAND    OF    CAPRI, 


that  little  light  can  enter  there.  The  fact  is,  that  the  opening  into 
the  cave  under  the  water  is  much  largfer  than  it  is  above,  and  the 
bright  sunlight  that  goes  down  into  the  water  on  the  outside  comes 
up  through  it  into  the  grotto.  It  goes  down  like  the  golden  sun- 
light it  is,  and  it  comes  up  into  the  grotto  more  like  moonlight,  but 
blue,  sparkling,  and  brilliant.  Everything  about  us  seems  weird 
and  strange.  One  of  the  men,  without  a  coat,  stands  up  in  his 
boat,  and  the  blue  light  playing  on  the  under  part  of  his  white 
shirt-sleeves    curiously   illuminates    him.     At    the    far   end    of    the 


94  PERSOXALLF  CONDUCTED. 

grotto  is  a  little  ledge,  the  only  place  where  it  is  possible  to  land, 
and  on  this  stands  a  man  in  thin  cotton  clothes,  who  offers  for  a 
small  sum  of  money  to  divt-  into  the  water.  In  a  few  moments 
down  he  goes,  and  we  see  him,  a  great  silvery  mass,  sink  far  below 
us.  Soon  he  comes  up  again,  ready  to  repeat  the  performance  as 
often  as  he  is  paid  for  it. 

The  most  beautilul  description  of  the  Blue  Grotto  is  to  be 
found  in  "  The  Improvisatore,"  a  story  by  Hans  Christian  Ander- 
sen, in  which  his  rare  imagination  has  thrown  into  this  grotto,  and 
over  its  walls  and  waters,  a  fairy-like  light  that  is  more  beautiful 
perhaps  than  the  blue  light  that  comes  up  from  the  sea.  There  are 
persons  who  have  read  his  account,  and  the  beautiful  story  of  the 
blind  girl  and  her  lover,  who  have  afterward  been  disappointed 
when  they  saw  the  grotto  for  themselves  ;  but  it  is  said  that  if  such 
persons  should  come  a  second  time  the  beauty  of  the  place  would 
grow  upon  them,  and  they  would  see  the  fairy-like  scene  that  they 
have  read  about.      I  never  visited  the  orotto  the  second  time. 

After  a  while,  our  boats  go  out  rather  more  easily  than  they 
came  in,  and  we  are  soon  on  the  steamboat,  and  off  for  the  Marina 
Grande,  or  principal  landing-place  of  the  island  of  Capri.  There 
is  no  wharf,  and  we  are  taken  off  in  small  boats.  The  town  of 
Capri  is  not  here  ;  it  is  high  up  on  the  steep  hills  above  us  :  but 
there  are  some  houses  and  one  or  two  hotels  scattered  about  near 
the  water,  and  very  soon  the  pretty  girls  come  down  to  meet  us, 
and  rii^ht  triad  thev  are  to  see  us.  Some  of  them  are  as  youne 
as  fourteen,  and  some  are  as  old  as  twenty  ;  many  of  them  are 
really  handsome,  with  regular  features,  large  dark  eyes,  and  that 
clear,  lightly-browned  complexion  which  some  people  think  more 
beautiful  th.an  white.  They  are  plainly,  but  some  of  them  prettily, 
dressed,  and  all  have  bare  heads  and  bare  feet.  Nearly  all  of  them 
have  strings  of  coral,  wliich   they  are  not  slow  to  urge  us  to  buy  ; 


AROUXD    THE  BAY  OF  NAPLES.  95 

and  we  find  that  it  is  because  they  hope  to  make  a  Httle  money  by 
selling  these,  that  these  pretty  girls  are  so  glad  to  see  us.  Others 
are  leading  little  donkeys  on  which  w^e  may  ride  to  the  town  above. 
But  we  shall  notice  that  not  one  of  them  is  begging.  The  people 
of  this  island  are  very  industrious  and  very  independent. 

Capri  was  named  by  the  Romans  Capreae  (the  island  of  goatsj, 
but  1  do  not  know  whether  this  name  was  given  because  there  were 
a  good  many  goats  here,  or  because  it  was  a  good  place  for  goats. 
The  latter  would  have  been  an  excellent  reason,  for  the  island  is  all 
"up  hill  and  down  dale."  Until  very  recently  there  were  no  roads 
upon  the  island  for  carriages  or  wheeled  vehicles,  and  if  people  did 
not  walk  up  and  down  the  steep  paths  which  led  everywhere,  they 
rode  upon  donkeys  or  horses ;  but  lately  roads  have  been  con- 
structed which  wind  backward  and  forward  aloncr  the  hillsides  and 
precipices  to  the  two  small  towns  upon  the  island,  Capri  and  Ana- 
capri.  Some  of  us  will  take  pony  carriages  up  the  road  to  Capri ; 
others  will  walk  ;  and  others  will  ride  donkeys,  each  attended  by  a 
woman  or  a  girl,  wdio  steers  the  little  beast  by  the  tail,  or  encour- 
ages it  with  a  switch.  The  island  is  about  half  a  mile  high,  and 
after  we  reach  the  little  town,  and  have  had  our  dinner,  we  prepare 
to  scatter  ourselv.es  over  its  surface. 

We  shall  find  this  island  one  of  the  finest  places  for  walks, 
rambles,  and  scrambles  that  we  have  yet  seen.  After  we  reach  the 
town  there  is  no  more  carriage-road,  and  the  principal  thorough- 
fares, which  lead  through  the  little  fields  and  gardens,  and  by  occa- 
sional  scattered  houses,  are  about  five  feet  wide,  and  paved  with 
small  round  cobble-stones.  These  are  not  very  pleasant  to  walk 
on,  but  we  shall  soon  discover  that  if  these  roads  were  smooth  we 
should  not  be  able  to  go  up  and  down  them  at  all.  We  shall  see 
here  very  funny  little  fields  of  grain,  beans,  and  other  crops.  Some 
of  the  wheat-fields  are  not  much  bigger  than  the  floor  of  a  large 


96  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

room  in  one  of  our  dwelling-houses.  The  people  are  poor,  and 
they  cultivate  every  spot  of  land  on  which  anything  useful  will 
grow.  A  half-hour's  walk  above  the  town  will  take  us  to  some 
high  points,  from  which  we  get  beautiful  views  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean to  the  south,  and  the  Bay  of  Naples  to  the  north,  while  away 
to  the  west  we  can  see  the  island  of  Ischia,  looking  so  peaceful 
under  the  soft  blue  sky  that  no  one  could  imagine  that  only  a  few 
years  ago  it  had  been  visited  by  a  terrible  earthquake,  in  which 
hundreds  of  people  perished.  From  one  of  the  high  places  to 
which  we  can  walk,  we  look  down  the  precipitous  rocks  to  the  sea, 
far  below  us  ;  and  out  in  the  water,  entirely  disconnected  with  the 
land,  we  see  three  great  pointed  masses  of  rock,  some  little  dis- 
tance from  the  shore.  On  the  very  top  of  one  of  these  is  a  small 
house  or  tower  built  there  by  the  ancient  Romans.  What  it  was 
intended  for,  on  this  almost  inaccessible  place,  is  not  exactly  known, 
but  it  is  believed  that  it  was  built  for  a  tomb.  I  suppose  some  of 
you  think  that  it  is  a  great  deal  harder  to  rid  ourselves  of  the 
Romans  than  of  Vesuvius,  but  it  cannot  be  helped  ,  we  shall  find 
that  they  have  been  wherever  w^e  wish  to  go.  On  the  land  side  of 
this  promontory,  we  look  down  into  a  rocky  valley  called  the  Vale 
of  Matrimony,  near  the  bottom  of  which  is  a  great  natural  arch,  or 
bridge  of  rock.  The  name  of  this  vale  is  a  corruption  of  a  name 
the  Romans  gave  it,  and  it  does  not  look  as  if  it  had  anything  to 
do  with  matrimony.  Another  of  our  walks  will  take  us  to  a  very 
high  point,  on  which  are  some  ruins  of  the  villa  of  Tiberius,  the 
Roman  emperor.  This  gentleman,  having  involved  himself  in  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  at  home,  concluded  to  retire  to  this  rocky 
island,  where  he  would  be  safe  from  his  enemies,  and  here  he  lived 
until  his  death  in  the  year  '})']  a.d.  Capri  must  have  been  a  very 
different  place  then,  as  far  as  the  manners  and  customs  of  its  inhab- 
itants are  concerned.     The  emperor  built  no  less  than  twelve  hand- 


AROUND   THE  BAY  OF  NAPLES.  97 

some  villas  in  various  parts  of  the  island,  and  made  all  necessary 
arrangements  to  enjoy  himself  as  much  as  possible.  The  villa 
which  we  are  visiting  was  one  of  the  largest,  and  the  remains  of 
vaulted  chambers  and  corridors  show  that  it  must  have  been  a  very 
fine  building.  A  short  distance  below  it  is  the  top  of  a  precipice, 
from  which,  tradition  says,  Tiberius  used  to  have  those  persons 
whom  he  had  condemned  to  death  thrown  down  into  the  sea. 
This  was  not  an  unusual  method  of  execution  with  the  Romans, 
and,  if  Tiberius  really  adopted  it  in  this  place,  his  victims  must 
have  met  with  a  certain  and  speedy  death. 

If  any  of  us  really  desire  to  see  a  hermit,  we  can  now  be  grati- 
fied, for  one  of  that  profession  has  his  dwelling  here.  He  prob- 
ably does  live  here  all  alone,  but  he  does  not  look  like  our  ordinary 
ideal  of  a  hermit.  He  will  be  glad  to  receive  some  coppers,  and 
also  to  have  us  write  our  autographs  in  a  book  which  he  keeps  for 
the  purpose.  A  hermit  autograph-collector  in  the  ruined  villa  of  a 
Roman  emperor,  on  the  top  of  a  mountainous  island  in  the  Medi- 
terranean, is  something  we  did  not  expect  to  meet  with  on  our 
travels. 

Wherever  we  go  in  our  walks  about  the  island,  we  shall  meet 
with  the  pretty  girls.  They  are  always  at  work,  but,  unfortunately, 
they  are  sometimes  engaged  in  much  harder  labor  than  that  of 
selling  coral  or  leading  donkeys.  Often  we  may  see  lines  of  girls, 
who,  if  nicely  dressed,  and  wearing  shoes  and  stockings,  would  do 
credit  in  appearance  to  any  boarding-school,  each  carrying  on  her 
head  a  wooden  tray  containing  stones  or  mortar  for  masons  who 
are  building  a  house  or  wall  ;  and  at  any  time  they  may  be  seen 
going  up  and  down  the  steep  paths  of  the  island  carrying  heavy 
loads  upon  their  heads.  As  I  said  before,  the  people  here  are 
generally  poor,  and  everybody  who  can,  old  and  young,  must  work. 
Why  there  are  so  few  boys  in  comparison  with  the  girls,  I  do  not 

7 


98  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

know.  It  may  be  that  the  boys  go  away  to  other  parts  of  the 
world,  where  they  can  find  work  that  will  pay  them  better  than 
anything  they  can  do  on  their  native  island. 

I  said,  when  we  first  came  here,  that  we  should  go  under,  over, 
and  around  this  island  ;  and  when  we  have  rambled  through  the 
valleys  and  over  the  hills,  and  have  paid  a  visit  to  Anacapri,  the 
other  little  town,  we  may  say  that  we  have  been  over  it  ;  when  we 
visited  the  Blue  Grotto,  we  went  under  it;  and  now  we  shall  go 
around  it,  by  taking  boats  and  making  what  is  called  the  gii'o,  or 
circuit  of  the  island.  The  trip  will  require  several  hours,  and  we 
shall  see  that  the  island  of  Capri  is  rather  rich  in  grottos,  and  that 
the  monotony  of  such  water  caverns  is  varied  by  having  them  of 
different  colors.  One  of  them  is  the  White  Grotto,  which  would 
doubtless  be  considered  very  pretty,  if  it  were  the  only  one  here. 
But  afterward  we  shall  see  the  Green  Grotto,  which  is  very  beauti- 
ful indeed,  in  which  the  water  and  the  rocks  are  of  a  fine  green 
hue.  When  we  reach  the  three  hiorh  rocks,  which  we  saw  from 
above,  we  shall  see  th.at  the  central  one  is  pierced  by  an  arched 
opening,  through  which  the  boatmen  will  row  our  boats. 

And  now,  having  spent  as  much  time  on  this  charming  island 
as  we  think  we  can  spare,  we  pack  up  the  valises  and  other  light 
baggage  which  we  brought  with  us,  and  make  everything  ready  to 
leave  the  next  morning.  But  when  the  next  morning  comes  we  do 
not  leave.  The  island  of  Capri  is  not*a  place  to  which  you  can 
come  when  you  choose,  and  from  which  you  can  depart  when  you 
feel  like  it.  The  day  is  fine,  the  sun  is  bright,  and  the  sky  is  blue  ; 
but  there  is  a  strong  wind  blowing,  and  the  bay  is  full  of  waves. 
They  are  not  very  high  waves,  to  be  sure,  l)ut  anything  which  has 
the  slightest  resemblance  to  rough  weather  is  sufficient  to  make  the 
captains  of  the  small  steamers  which  ply  between  Naples  and  Capri 
decide  to  suspend   operations  until    the  bay  is  smooth  again.       If 


AROUND    THE  BAY  OF  NAPLES.  99 

people  are  disappointed  and  have  to  stay  where  they  do  not  wish 
to  stay,  they  must  blame  the  winds,  and  not  the  captains,  who,  if 
told  that  an  American  or  English  sailor  would  think  nothing  of  the 
little  gales  that  are  sufficient  to  keep  them  at  their  anchorage,  would 
probably  shrug  their  shoulders  and  say  that  they  were  not  Ameri- 
can or  English  sailors,  and  were  very  glad  of  it. 

Sometimes  visitors  are  kept  at  Capri  a  week  waiting  for  a 
steamer.  It  is  possible  to  go  over  to  Sorrento  in  a  fishing-boat; 
but  the  roughest  part  of  the  bay  lies  between  us  and  the  home  of 
the  wood-carvers,  and  it  is  not  over  such  water  and  in  little  boats 
that  I  propose  to  personally  conduct  my  young  friends.  So  we  may 
congratulate  ourselves,  that,  if  we  have  to  be  imprisoned  for  a  time 
on  an  island,  there  is  no  pleasanter  one  for  the  purpose  than  Capri, 
and  shall  therefore  contentedly  wait  to  see  what  happens  next. 


VT. 


1\     FLOKKWF     \NP     XIMCF. 


A   '^    7  1"'    l^-'ft    ourselves    in   Capri,    in    the    |Movit>us   (.haptor.    not 

\  \  knowin^^-  how  lono-  we  sluniKl  have  to  sia\  there,  Init  I  am 
happy  to  say.  that,  atter  haviii^;  Ih\mi  detained  tor  iw*^ 
days,  during;  whieh  we  scattered  ourselves  o\  er  the  whole  isKuul. 
and  made  up  our  minds  that  it  was  a  place  where  we  could  spend 
a  suninier  Nacatioii  with  perfect  satisfaction,  the  steamboat  camo 
and  we  sailed  awav. 

And  now  we  are  in  I'lorence.  haxini;  come  by  railwax'  fron\ 
Naples,  stopping  over  ni^ht  in  Rome.  As  1  ha\  e  s.iid  before,  e.ich 
prominent  Italian  cit\  is  as  different  from  all  the  otlu-rs  as  if  it 
belonged  to  another  countr\"  ;  and,  in  fact,  .it  i^ne  time  or  .mother 
they  each  did  belong  to  a  diffi^rent  C(,nintr\. 

We  cannot  walk  in  the  narrow  streets  by  the  t.ill  palaces,  and 
in  the  great  open  squ.ires  oi  bdorence,  called  b\-  the  It.ihans  /.</ 
J^e//a  because  it  is  so  beautiful,  without  being  reminded  .u  e\ery 
step  of  bygone  times  ;  and  vet  theri>  is  nothing  .niciint  .du^ui 
Florence.  It  is  preeminenth"  a  city  oi  the  Middle  Ages.  .md.  with 
the  exception  of  the  dress  oi  its  citizens,  it  K>oks  almost  as  nunli.r- 
val  to-day  as  it  did  in  the  time  of  Dante  and  Michael  .\ngeK\  The 
Romans  were  here,  of  course,  but  ihe\'  left  tew  or  no  ruins  behind 
them,  and  in  our  rambles  through  blorence  we  shall  ne\er  think  ol 
the  ancient  Romans.  This.  1  know,  will  be  .i  comfort  to  some 
of  us.  It  was  in  the  Middle  Ages  that  I'lorence  raised  itself  up  so 
that   the   whole  world   might    see    it,   ami   it   was   not   only  |>olitical 


/;/  jjjj/ucxc/':  amj  vkmce.  ioi 


pow^:r  or  comm^;rcial  gn:atness  that  then  was  seen,  but  a  city  of 
poets  and  architects,  of  men  of  learning  and  of  thought.  One 
of  the  charms  of  I'lorcnce  now  will  be  that  we  can  see  it  just  as  it 
was  at  the  time  of  its  greatest  glory.  The  lofty,  fortified  palaces 
appear  in  as  good  order  as  when  they  were  first  built;  some  of 
them  are  still  inhabited  by  the  descendants  of  the  princes  and 
nobles  who  built  them.  In  the  walls  of  these  palaces  are  the  same 
iron  rings  to  which  the  knights  and  cavaliers  used  to  tie  their 
horses,  and  here,  too,  are  the  iron  sockets  in  which  torches  were 
thrust  to  light  up  the  street  about  the  palace  doors.  These  things 
an;  sound  and  strong,  and  would  h>e  perfectly  fit  for  use  to-day,  if 
people  still  tied  their  horses  to  rings  in  the  sides  of  houses,  or 
thrust  torches  into  iron  sockets.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  city  that 
nearly  everything,  no  matter  how  long  ago  it  was  made  or  built, 
is  in  good  condition,  i'lorence  has  been  well  kept,  and  if  the 
painters  and  poets,  the  architects,  the  sculptors,  and  philosophers  of 
former  days  could  return  to  it,  they  would  probably  feel  very  much 
at  home.  Giotto  could  look  up  at  the  beautiful  campanile,  or  bell- 
tower,  that  he  built,  and  find  it  just  as  he  had  left  it ;  and,  if  he 
had  forgotten  what  he  meant  by  the  groups  and  symbols  which  he 
put  upon  it,  he  could  step  into  the  adjoining  street  and  buy  a  book 
by  Mr.  Ruskin,  the  English  art  critic,  which  would  tell  him  all 
about  it.  Dante  could  sit  on  the  same  stone  (\{  somebody  would 
take  it  out  of  a  wall  for  him;  on  which  he  used  to  rest  and  watch 
the  building  of  the  great  duomo,  or  cathedral.  This  stone,  now 
called  the  Sasso  di  Dante,  was  placed,  after  the  poet's  death,  in  the 
wall  of  a  house  near  the  spot  where  it  used  to  lie,  and  there  it  is 
now,  with  an  inscription  on  it.  Farther  on,  the  two  architects  who 
built  the  cathedral  would  find  statues  of  themselves— one  looking 
up  at  the  dome,  because  he  made  that;  and  the  other  at  the  body 
of    the   building,   because  that  was   his  work.     The    great,   round 


I02  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

baptistery,  near  by,  would  look  very  familiar,  with  its  beautful  bronze 
doors,  on  which  are  twelve  exquisite  bas-reliefs  representing  Scrip- 
ture scenes.  And  if  these  returned  Florentines  were  to  ofo  inside, 
they  would  probably  see  some  babies  baptized  in  very  much  the 
same  way  in  which  it  used  to  be  done  in  the  Middle  Ages.  On 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street  they  would  still  find  the  bigallo,  a 
very  pretty  little  building,  in  the  open  porch  of  which  babies 
were  put  on  exhibition  at  certain  periods,  so  that  any  one  who 
wished  to  adopt  a  child  could  come  there  and  see  if  any  one  of 
those  on  view  would  suit.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  baby  market. 
The  place  is  now  an  orphan  asylum,  but  I  believe  the  babies  are 
not  set  out  for  adoption.  In  a  small  street,  not  far  from  the  cathe- 
dral, Dante  would  find  his  old  house  still  standing;  and  Michael 
Angelo  could  go  into  his  house,  and  find,  in  the  room  which  he 
used  as  his  study,  a  lot  of  unfinished  pencil-drawings  just  as  he 
left  them. 

In  the  pnnc'ip^d  />mz2a,  or  square,  of  the  city  would  still  be  seen 
standing  the  great  Palazzo  Vecchio,  which  is  a  town  hall  now,  just 
as  it  used  to  be ;  and  near  by  still  stands  the  vast  open  portico 
adorned  with  statuary,  in  which  the  nobles  and  the  magistrates 
once  gathered  to  view  public  spectacles  or  meetings  in  the  open 
square.  But  Savonarola,  the  famous  monk  and  patriot  of  Florence, 
could  not  see  the  spot  in  this  square  where  he  was  burned  at  the 
stake.  This  place  has  been  covered  by  a  handsome  fountain. 
Here,  in  the  vast  Uffizzi  Palace,  the  Duke  de  Medici,  Cosmo  III., 
would  find  that  now-celebrated  statue  of  Venus  which  he  brought 
to  Florence  in  the  sixteentli  century.  It  was  an  ancient  statue 
then,  but  its  great  famo  has  come  to  it  since,  and  it  still  is  known 
as  the  Venus  di  Medici,  and  not  by  the  name  of  its  sculptor — Cleo- 
menes  the  Greek,  the  son  of  Apollodorus. 

What  a  grand  collection  of  pictures  and  sculptures,   with  the 


IX  FLOREXCE  AND    VENICE. 


103 


most  of  which  they  would  be  very  famihar,  would  the  returned 
Florentines  of  the  Middle  Ages  find  in  the  long  galleries  of  the 
Uffizzi  Palace,  and  in  those  of  the  Pitti  Palace  on  the  other  side  of 
the  River  Arno  which  runs  through  the  city  !     These  two  palaces 


THE   MERCATO    VECCHIO. 


are  united  by  a  covered  gallery,  which  forms  the  upper  story  of  a 
very  old  bridge  called  the  Ponte  Vecchio,  which  is  a  very  curious 
and  interesting  structure.  Each  side  is  lined  with  little  shops, 
which,  ever  since  the  year  1593,  have  been  occupied  by  goldsmiths 
and  jewellers.      The  shops  are  still  there,  and,  if  the  old-time  gold- 


I04  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


smiths  were  to  come  back,  they  would  have  no  difficulty  in  finding 
their  old  places  of  business. 

The  Pitti  Palace  is  a  very  grand  building,  with  a  front  as  long 
as  a  New-York  block  from  avenue  to  avenue.  The  massive  stones 
of  which  it  is  built,  some  of  them  twenty  feet  long,  are  rough  and 
unhewn,  and  the  whole  building  has  a  very  massive  and  imposing 
appearance.  This  and  the  Uffizzi  Palace  together  contain  one  of 
the  most  valuable  and  extensive  collections  of  pictures  in  the  world. 
Even  the  covered  way  over  the  bridge  has  its  walls  hung  with 
pictures.  Here  we  shall  wander  from  hall  to  hall,  and  gallery  to 
gallery,  and  look  upon  many  of  those  great  works  of  art,  of  which 
we  have  so  often  seen  en^rravines,  or  which  we  have  read  and  heard 
about. 

The  Bargello  is  a  large  and  old  stone  palace,  once  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Podesta,  or  chief  magistrate,  of  the  town.  It  is 
now  a  museum  filled  with  all  sorts  of  curious  things,  generally 
relating  to  old  Florence,  such  as  arms,  costumes,  etc.  There  are 
also  here  a  great  many  statues  and  other  works  of  art.  One  of 
these  is  that  fine  figure  of  Mercury,  casts  of  which  we  have  all 
seen.  It  stands  tip-toe  on  one  foot,  and  is  winged  on  head  and 
heels. 

The  palaces  of  Florence  were  built  for  fortresses  as  well  as  for 
residences,  and  they  still  stand,  tall,  massive,  and  gray,  looking 
down  upon  the  narrow  streets  of  the  city.  On  the  corners  of  some 
of  these  we  shall  see  great  lamps  surrounded  by  the  intricate  and 
beautiful  iron  work  for  which  the  artist  blacksmiths  of  the  Middle 
Acjes  were  famous. 

It  will  soon  become  evident  to  those  of  us  who  have  not  remem- 
bered the  fact,  that  the  Medici  family  were  once  very  prominent 
citizens  of  Plorence.  There  are  Medici  statues  in  the  public 
places ;  the  Medici  palaces  indicate  the  power  and  wealth  of  the 


IN  FLORENCE  AND    VENICE.  105 

family  ;  and  in  the  Church  of  San  Lorenzo,  besides  some  grand 
sculptured  tombs  by  Michael  Angelo,  we  shall  see  the  Chapel  of 
the  Princes,  an  immense  hall,  built  by  the  Medici  family  as  a  place 
in  which  to  bury  their  dead,  at  a  cost  of  over  four  millions  of 
dollars.  The  octagonal  walls  of  the  room,  which  is  very  high  and 
covered  by  a  dome,  are  composed  of  the  most  costly  marbles  and 
valuable  stones,  while  upon  lofty  pedestals  around  the  room  are  the 
granite  sarcophagi  of  six  of  the  Medici  princes,  gorgeously  adorned 
with  emeralds,  rubies,  and  other  precious  gems. 

If  we  happen  to  be  in  Florence  on  Ascension  Day,  we  shall  see 
a  great  m^any  people  in  the  streets,  or  in  the  old  market  or  Mercato 
Vecchio,  who  offer  for  sale  little  wooden  cages,  two  or  three 
inches  square,  which  are  used  in  a  very  peculiar  way.  Each  per- 
son who  wants  to  know  what  his  or  her  fortune  is  to  be  during  the 
ensuing  year  buys  one  of  these  cages,  and  into  it  is  put  a  cricket, 
great  numbers  of  which  are  caught  on  that  day  by  children,  and 
even  men  and  women,  in  the  fields  and  roads  outside  of  the  town. 
Each  cricket  is  kept  in  its  cage  without  food,  and  if  it  grows  thin 
enough  to  get  out  between  the  little  bars,  and  escapes,  then  its 
owner  expects  good  luck  during  all  the  year;  but  if  the  cricket's 
constitution  cannot  withstand  privation,  and  it  dies  in  the  cage 
before  it  is  thin  enough  to  get  out,  then  the  person  who  impris- 
oned it  must  expect  misfortune.  Many  travellers  buy  some  of  these 
curious  little  cages  as  mementos ;  but  if  we  do  not  wish  to  be 
troubled  by  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals, 
or  our  own  consciences,  we  shall  not  go  into  the  cricket  fortune- 
tellinor  business. 

The  suburbs  of  Florence  are  very  beautiful,  and  from  some 
points  in  them  we  have  charming  views  of  the  city,  and  the  valley 
in  which  it  lies,  the  river,  and  the  mountains  all  about.  To  the 
north,  on  an  eminence,  is  the  very  ancient  and  picturesque  town 


io6 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED, 


of    Fiesole,  with   remains  of  great  walls  which  were  built  by  the 
Etruscans  before  Romulus  and  Remus  were  ever  heard  of. 


Going-  on  with  our  journey,  the  next  place  we  shall  visit  is 
Venice,  the  "  City  in  the  Sea."  This  lies,  as  we  all  know,  in  a  shal- 
low part  of  the  Adriatic,  and  is  built  upon  three  large  islands  and 
one  hundred  and  fourteen  smaller  islands.      Instead  of   streets  it 


A   BIT   OF   VENICE 


has  one  hundred  and  fifty  canals.  The  railway  on  which  we  arrive 
crosses  a  bridge  more  than  two  miles  lonor — the  wide  stretch  of 
water  lying  between  the  city  and  the  mainland  ;  and  when  we  go 
out  of  the  station,  instead  of  findin"-  carriages  and  cabs  in  waiting 
for  us,  we  see  the  famous  long  black  boats  of  Venice,  called  gon- 
dolas. There  is  not  a  horse,  a  cab,  or  a  carriage  of  any  kind  in 
all  the  city.  The  people  go  about  in  gondolas  or  other  kinds  of 
boats,  or  walk  in  the  alleys,  streets,  and  squares,  which  are  found 


IN  FLORENCE  AhD    VENICE.  107 

all  over  the  city.  If  any  one  wishes  to  cross  a  canal,  he  can  do  it 
by  that  one  of  the  three  hundred  and  seventy-eight  bridges  that 
happens  to  be  most  convenient. 

The  Grand  Canal,  nearly  two  miles  long,  and  as  broad  as  a 
small  river,  winds  through  the  city.  At  one  end  of  it  is  the 
railway  station,  and  at  the  other  the  hotel  to  which  we  are  going. 
When  we  are  all  ready — four  of  us,  with  our  baggage,  in  each  gon- 
dola— the  two  gondoliers,  one  standing  at  the  stern  and  the  other 
at  the  bow,  push  upon  their  long  oars  and  send  us  skimming  over 
the  water.  We  shall  not  make  the  whole  tour  of  the  Grand  Canal, 
but  soon  leaving  it,  we  glide  into  one  of  the  side  canals,  and  thread 
our  way  swiftly  along,  between  tall  houses  rising  right  out  of 
the  water,  under  bridges,  around  corners,  past  churches,  and  open 
squares  filled  with  busy  people — grazing,  but  never  touching,  other 
gondolas  going  in  the  opposite  direction,  until  we  shoot  out  into 
the  lower  part  of  the  Grand  Canal,  near  its  junction  with  the 
lagoon,  or  bay,  in  which  Venice  lies.  Tall  palaces,  with  their 
fronts  beautifully  ornamented,  now  stand  upon  our  left,  and  on 
the  opposite  bank  is  a  great  domed  church  with  beautiful  carvings 
and  sculptures,  which  seems  to  rise,  balloon-like,  out  of  the  water. 
In  the  open  lagoon  is  a  large  island  with  a  tall  church-spire.  Far 
away  are  other  islands,  purple  in  the  distance  ;  vessels  sail  about 
with  brightly  colored  sails,  often  red  or  orange  ;  gondolas  shoot 
here,  there,  and  everywhere  ;  and  a  little  farther  down,  large  ships 
and  steamers  lie  at  anchor.  Our  srondolas  skim  around  with  a 
sweep,  and  stop  at  the  steps  of  the  hotel,  which  come  down  into 
the  water. 

There  are  few  things  about  Venice  that  will  be  more  directly 
interesting  to  us  than  the  gondolas,  which  constitute  a  peculiar  and 
delightful  feature  of  the  city.  If  ordinary  rowboats  were  substi- 
tuted for  gondolas,  Venice  would  lose  one  of  its  greatest  charms. 


Io8  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

These  boats,  which  are  truly  Venetian,  and  are  used  nowhere  else 
but  here,  are  very  long,  narrow,  and  light.  The  passengers,  of 
whom  there  are  seldom  more  than  four,  sit  on  softly  cushioned 
seats  in  the  middle  of  the  boat,  and  the  portion  occupied  by  them 
is  generally  covered  in  cold  or  rainy  weather  by  a  little  cabin,  some- 
thing like  a  carriage-top,  with  windows  at  the  sides  and  a  door  in 
front.  In  hot  weather,  when  the  sun  shines,  this  cabin-top  is  taken 
off,  and  its  place  supplied  by  a  light  awning.  Very  often,  however, 
neither  is  needed,  and  at  such  times  the  gondola  is  most  enjoyable. 
At  the  bow  of  every  gondola  rises  a  high  steel  affair,  brightly  pol- 
ished, which  looks  like  an  old-fashioned  halberd  or  sword-axe  ;  these 
are  placed  here  principally  because  it  has  always  been  the  fashion 
to  have  them,  and  they  are  also  useful  in  going  under  bridges  :  if 
X\\^  ferro,  as  this  handsome  steel  prow  is  called,  can  go  under  a 
brido-e  without  touching  the  rest  of  the  orondola  will  do  so  also. 
There  is  but  one  color  for  a  gondola,  and  that  is  black  ;  this,  espe- 
cially when  the.  black  cabin  is  on,  gives  it  a  very  sombre  appear- 
ance. Many  people,  indeed,  liken  them  to  floating  hearses,  with 
their  black  cords,  tassels,  and  cushions.  But  when  their  white  or 
bright-colored  awnings  are  up,  or  when  they  have  neither  canopy 
nor  awning,  their  appearance  is  quite  cheerful.  There  is  nothing 
funereal,  however,  about  the  gondoliers,  of  whom  there  is  generally 
one  to  each  gondola.  It  is  only  when  the  boat  is  heavily  loaded, 
or  when  great  speed  or  style  is  desired,  that  there  are  two  of  them. 
The  gondolier  stands  in  the  stern,  as  we  have  so  often  seen  him  in 
pictures,  and  rests  his  oar  on  a  crotched  projection  at  the  side  of 
the  boat  ;  he  leans  forward,  throwing  his  weight  upon  his  oar,  and 
thus  sends  his  light  craft  skimming  over  the  water.  As  he  sways 
forward  and  back,  sometimes  apparently  on  one  foot  only,  it  seems 
as  if  he  were  in  danorer  of  tumbling  off  the  narrow  end  of  the  boat ; 
but  he  never  does.     Trust  him  for  that.     The  dexterity  with  which 


IN  FLORENCE  AND    VENICE. 


109 


he  steers  his  craft,  always  with  his  oar  on  one  side,  is  astonishing. 
He  shoots  around  corners,  giving,  as  he  does  so,  a  very  peculiar 
shout  to  tell  other  gondoliers  that  he  is  coming  ;  in  narrow  places 
he  glides  by  the  other  boats,  or  close  up  to  houses,  without  ever 
touching  anything  ;  and  when  he 
has  a  straight  course,  he  pushes 
on  and  on,  and  never  seems  to  be 


«:-, 


ife 


§zh 


t.f'A 


n^Sfr-^ 


"2?il„.J,T 


'[^,1'^; 

^••: 


Bft^ 


A    SCENE    IN    VENICE. 


tired.  Gondoliers  in  the  ser- 
vice of  private  families,  and 
some  of  those  whose  boats  are  for  hire,  dress  in  very  pretty 
costumes  of  white  or  light-colored  sailor  clothes,  with  a  broad 
collar  and  a  red  or  blue  sash  ;  these,  with  a  straw  hat  and  long 
floating  ribbons,  give  the  gondolier  a  very  gay  appearance,  which 
counterbalances  in  a  measure  the  sombreness  of  his  boat. 


no  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

The  reason  that  the  gondolas  are  always  black  is  this  :  in  the 
early  days  of  Venice  the  rich  people  were  very  extravagant,  and 
each  one  of  them  tried  to  look  finer  than  any  one  else  ;  among 
their  other  rivalries,  they  decked  out  their  gondolas  in  a  very  gor- 
geous fashion.  In  order  to  check  this  absurd  display,  there  was  a 
law  passed  in  the  fifteenth  century  decreeing  that  every  gondola, 
no  matter  whether  it  belonged  to  a  rich  man  or  a  poor  one,  should 
be  entirely  black  ;  and  since  that  time  every  gondola  has  been 
black. 

I  have  said  a  great  deal  in  regard  to  gondolas,  because  they  are 
very  important  to  us,  and  we  shall  spend  much  of  our  time  in  them. 
One  of  the  best  things  about  them  is  that  they  are  very  cheap  : 
the  fare  for  two  persons  is  twenty  cents  for  the  first  hour,  and  ten 
cents  for  each  succeeding  hour.  If  we  give  the  gondolier  a  little 
extra  change  at  the  end  of  a  long  row,  he  will  be  very  grateful. 

One  of  our  first  excursions  will  be  a  trip  along  the  whole  length 
of  the  Grand  Canal.  As  we  start  from  the  lower  end,  we  soon 
pass  on  our  right  the  small  but  beautiful  palace  of  Cantarini-Fasan, 
which  is  said  to  have  been  the  palace  in  which  Shakespeare  chose  to 
lay  the  scene  of  Othello's  courtship  of  Desdemona.  The  palaces 
which  we  now  see  rising  up  on  each  side  were  almost  all  built  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  many  of  them  look  old  and  a  little  shabby, 
but  among  them  are  some  very  beautiful  and  peculiar  specimens 
of  architecture,  their  fronts  beino-  covered  with  artistic  and  orace- 
ful  ornamentation  ;  many  of  the  windows,  or  rather  clusters  of  win- 
dows, are  very  picturesque  ;  and  the  effect  of  these  long  rows  of 
grand  old  palaces,  with  their  pillars,  their  carvings,  and  the  varied 
colors  of  their  fronts,  is  much  more  pleasing  to  us  than  if  they 
were  all  fresh  and  new.  One  of  these,  the  Ca  d'Oro,  or  House  of 
Gold,  is  particularly  elegant  ;  and  some  of  the  larger  ones,  such  as 
the  Palazzo  Foscari,  are  grand  specimens  of  architecture.      These 


IN  FLORENCE  AND    VENICE.  1 1 1 

palaces  are  directly  at  the  water's  edge,  and  at  a  couple  of  yards' 
distance  from  their  doorways  is  a  row  of  gayly  painted  posts, 
driven  into  the  bottom  of  the  canal.  They  are  intended  to  pro- 
tect the  gondolas  lying  at  the  broad  stone  steps  from  being  run 
into  by  passing  craft.  The  posts  in  front  of  each  house  are  of 
different  color  and  design,  and  add  very  much  to  the  gayety  of  the 
scene.  Before  long  we  come  to  quite  a  large  bridge,  which  is  one  of 
the  three  that  cross  the  Grand  Canal.  We  must  stop  here  and  land, 
for  this  is  a  bridge  of  which  we  all  have  heard,  and  we  shall  wish 
to  walk  upon  it  and  see  what  it  looks  like.  It  is  the  Rialto,  where 
"many  a  time  and  oft"  old  Shylock  in  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice" 
had  a  disagreeable  time  of  it.  It  is  a  queer  bridge,  high  in  the 
middle,  with  a  good  many  steps  at  either  end.  On  each  side  is  a 
row  of  shops  or  covered  stalls,  where  fruit,  crockery,  and  small 
articles  are  sold.  This  is  a  very  busy  quarter  of  the  city  ;  on  one 
side  of  the  canal  is  the  fish  market,  and  on  the  other  the  fruit  and 
vegetable  market.  The  canal  here,  and  indeed  for  its  whole  lenoth, 
is  full  of  life  :  large  craft  move  slowly  along,  the  men  on  board  gen- 
erally pushing  them  with  long  poles  ;  now  and  then  a  little  passen- 
ger steamboat,  not  altogether  suited  to  a  city  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
but  very  quiet  and  unobtrusive,  hurries  by,  crowded  with  people  ; 
and  look  where  we  may,  we  see  a  man  standing  on  the  thin  end  of 
a  long  black  boat,  pushing  upon  an  oar,  and  shouting  to  another 
man  engaged  in  the  same  pursuit. 

Passing  under  a  long  modern  bridge  built  of  iron,  we  go  on  until 
we  reach  the  railway  bridge  where  we  came  in,  and  go  out  upon 
the  broad  lagoon,  where  we  look  over  toward  the  mainland  and  see 
the  long  line  of  the  beautiful  Tyrolese  Alps.  We  return  through 
a  number  of  the  smaller  canals,  the  water  of  which,  unfortunately, 
is  not  always  very  clean  ;  but  we  shall  not  mind  that,  for  we  see  so 
much  that  is  novel  and  curious  to  us.      In  some  places,  there  is  a 


112  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

street  on  one  side  of  the  canal,  with  shops,  but  this  is  not  common  ; 
generally  we  pass  close  to  the  foundations  of  the  tall  houses,  and 
when  there  is  an  open  space  we  can  almost  always  see  a  church 
standing  back  in  it.  We  continually  pass  under  little  bridges  ;  at 
one  corner  we  shall  see  as  many  as  live,  close  together.  These 
connect  small  streets  and  squares,  and  there  are  always  people  on 
them.  If  the  day  is  warm  we  shall  see  plenty  of  Venetian  boys 
swimming  in  the  canals,  wearing  nothing  but  a  pair  of  light  trousers, 
and  they  care  so  little  for  our  approach  that  we  are  afraid  our  gon- 
dolas will  run  over  some  of  them.  The  urchins  are  very  quick  and 
active,  however,  and  we  might  as  well  try  to  touch  a  fish  as  one  of 
them.  I  once  saw  a  Venetian  girl  about  sixteen  years  old,  who  was 
sitting  upon  the  steps  of  a  house,  teaching  her  young  brother  to 
swim.  The  little  fellow  was  very  small,  and  she  had  tied  a  cord 
around  his  waist,  one  end  of  which  she  held  in  her  hand.  She 
would  let  the  child  get  into  the  water  and  paddle  away  as  well  as 
he  could.  When  he  seemed  tired,  or  when  he  had  gone  far  enough, 
she  pulled  him  in.  She  looked  very  much  as  if  she  were  fishing, 
with  a  small  boy  for  bait. 

We  come  out  into  the  open  water  at  that  part  of  Venice  which 
lies  below  the  end  of  the  Grand  Canal ;  but  just  before  we  do  so 
we  pass  between  the  tall  walls  of  a  great  palace  on  the  right,  and 
a  dark,  gloomy  building  on  the  left.  High  above  our  heads  the 
second  stories  of  these  buildings  are  connected  by  a  covered  bridge, 
which  many  of  us  will  easily  recognize  as  the  Bridge  of  Sighs, 
of  which  we  have  read  so  often  and  seen  so  many  pictures. 
The  palace  is  the  Palace  of  the  Doges,  in  which  state  prisoners 
used  to  be  tried ;  and  the  gloomy  building  is  the  prison,  into 
which  the  condemned  came  across  the  Bridofe  of  Sicrhs,  often 
taking  their  last  view  of  the  world  through  the  little  windows  in 
its  sides. 


IN  FLORENCE  AND    VENICE. 


113 


As  we  pass  out  into  the  broad  waters  of  the  harbor,  we  turn 
to  the  right  and  have  a  fine  view  of  the  water-front  of  the  Doges' 
Palace,  which  is  a  very  handsome  and  very  peculiar  building,  orna- 
mented somewhat  in  the  Moorish  style.  The  lower  part  of  the 
front  has  a  yellowish  tinge, 
shaded  off  into  light  pink 
toward  the  top.  We  next 
pass  a  wide  open  space,  reach- 
ing far  back  beyond  the 
palace,  and  at  the  foot  of 
this  are  long  rows  of  steps, 
where  great  numbers  of  gon- 
dolas are  lying  crowded  to- 
gether, waiting  to  be  hired. 
Near  by  are  two  columns,  one 
surmounted  by  the  winged 
lion  of  St.  Mark,  the  patron 
saint  of  Venice,  and  the 
other  by  a  rather  curious 
group  representing  a  saint 
killincr  a  crocodile.  At  the 
other  end  of  this  open  space, 
which  is  called  the  Plazzetta, 
we  see,  rising  high  above 
everything    else    in    Venice, 

the  tall  and  beautiful  bell-tower.  This  is  in  the  Piazza  San  Marco, 
the  great  central  point  of  the  city  ;  and  the  next  thing  we  shall 
do  is  to  come  here  on  foot  and  see  what  is  to  be  seen. 

When  we  start  upon  this  walk,  we  leave  our  hotel  by  the  back 
door,  and,  after  twisting  about  through  narrow  passages,  we  soon 
find  ourselves   in  a  quite  wide  and  pretty  street,  filled  with  shops 


THE   BRIDGE    OF    SIGHS. 


114  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

and  people.  The  pavement  is  very  smooth  and  clean,  being  one 
wide  foot-walk,  and  we  can  straggle  about  as  we  please,  without 
any  fear  of  being  run  over.  I  do  not  believe  the  Venetians  indulge 
in  wheeled  vehicles,  even  to  the  extent  of  a  wheelbarrow.  Cross- 
ing a  bridge  and  going  through  a  vaulted  passage,  we  enter  the 
great  piazza.  This  is  paved  with  broad  flagstones;  and  around 
three  sides  of  it  are  shops,  the  best  in  Venice,  where  one  can  buy 
almost  anything  a  reasonable  traveller  could  desire.  There  are  also 
a  good  many  cafes,  or  restaurants,  here,  and  in  front  of  them,  out 
in  the  piazza,  are  hundreds  of  little  chairs  and  tables,  at  which 
people  sit  and  drink  coffee.  This  is  a  very  busy  and  lively  place, 
and  on  several  evenings  in  the  week  a  military  band  plays  here, 
while  the  people  promenade  up  and  down,  or  sit  and  listen  to  it. 
To  the  right,  near  the  end  opposite  to  which  we  enter,  is  the  bell- 
tower  which  we  have  seen ;  to  the  left  is  a  tower  with  a  great  clock 
in  the  face  of  it,  on  the  top  of  which  are  two  life-size  iron  figures, 
which  strike  the  hours  with  hammers  they  hold  in  their  hands.  In 
front  of  us,  stretching  across  the  whole  width  of  the  piazza,  is  the 
Church  of  St.  Mark,  which,  at  a  little  distance,  looks  more  like  a 
painted  picture  than  an  actual  building.  The  Venetians  are  very 
fond  of  color,  and  have  shown  this  by  the  way  they  have  decorated 
their  cathedral ;  the  whole  front  seems  a  mass  of  frescos,  mosaics, 
windows,  and  ornaments.  Some  of  the  mosaics  are  very  large  and 
artistic,  and  are  bright  with  red,  purple,  and  gold.  In  front  of 
the  cathedral  are  three  very  tall  flagstaffs,  painted  a  bright  red, 
which  have  been  standing  here  over  three  hundred  years.  When 
we  enter  the  cathedral,  we  shall  find  that  it  is  different  from  any 
churcli  that  we  have  yet  seen.  It  is  decorated  in  the  most  mag- 
nificent and  lavish  style,  somewhat  in  the  gorgeous  fashion  of  the 
East.  The  floor  is  covered  with  mosaic  work,  and  the  ceilings, 
walls,  columns,  and  altars  are  richly  adorned  with  gold  and  bronze 


IN  FLORENCE  AND    VENICE, 


115 


and  many-colored  marbles,  and  some  of  this  ornamental  work  is 
six  or  seven  hundred  years  old. 
On  every  side  we  find  unexpected 
and  picturesque  galleries,  recesses 
with  altars,  stairways,  and  columns, 
and  out-of-the-way  corners  lighted 
through  the  stained  glass  of  many- 
colored  windows.  There  are,  in  all, 
about  five  hundred  columns  in  and 
about  this  church. 

In  front,  over  the  principal 
entrance,  we  see  the  four  famous 
bronze  horses  of  St.  Mark's  ;  and 
if  the  Venetian  children,  or  even 
grown  people,  do  not  know  what  a 
horse  is  like,  all  they  have  to  do  is 
to    look    up    at    these    high-mettled    ".- 


ST.    MARK  S   AND   THE   CAMPANILE. 


ii6 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


coursers,  which,  although  rather  stiff  of  Hmb,  have  been  great  trav- 
ellers, having  seen  Rome  and  Constantinople,  and  even  visited  Paris. 
As  we  come  out  again  into 


V-    -^ 


the  piazza,  we  shall  be  greatly 
tempted  to  stay  here,  for  it  is  a 
lively  place.  We  certainly  must 
stop  long  enough  to  allow  some 
of  our  younger  companions  to 
feed  the  pigeons  of  St.  Mark, 
which,  if  they  see  any  of  us  with 
the  little  paper  cornucopias  fillrd 
with  corn,  which  are  sold 
here  to  visitors,  will  come 
to   us  by  the    hundreds. 


%  I     Vtlwfl 


FEEDING    THE    PIGEONS    IN    THE    SQUARE    OF    ST.    MARK.  S. 


IN  FLORENCE  AND    VENICE.  I  i  7 

settling  on  our  heads  and  shoulders,  and  crowding  about  us  like  a 
flock  of  chickens.  For  more  than  six  hundred  years  pigeons  have 
been  cared  for  and  fed  here  by  the  people  of  Venice ;  and  as  these 
wh'ch  we  see  are  the  direct  descendants  of  the  pigeons  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  they  belong  to  very  old  families  indeed. 

To  the  right  of  the  cathedral  is  the  Doges'  Palace,  and  this 
we  shall  now  visit.  We  pass  under  a  beautiful  double  colonnade 
into  a  large  interior  court,  where,  at  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  we  may  see  numbers  of  Venetian  girls  and  women 
coniing  to  get  water  from  a  celebrated  well  or  cistern  here.  Each 
girl  has  two  bright  copper  pails,  in  which  she  carries  the  water, 
and  we  shall  find  it  amusing  to  watch  them  for  a  few  minutes. 
There  are  two  finely  sculptured  bronze  cisterns  in  the  yard,  but 
these  are  not  used  now.  We  then  go  up  a  grand  staircase,  and 
ascend  still  higher  by  a  stairway  called  the  Scala  d'Oro,  once 
used  only  by  the  nobles  of  Venice.  We  now  wander  through  the 
gfreat  halls  and  rooms  where  the  docjes  once  held  their  courts  and 
councils.  Enormous  pictures  decorate  ^he  walls.  One  of  them, 
by  Tintoretto,  is  said  to  be  the  largest  oil-painting  in  the  world. 
We  shall  take  a  look  into  the  dreadful  dung-eons  of  which  we 
read  so  much  in  Venetian  history,  and  we  shall  cross  the  Bridge  of 
Sighs,  although  we  cannot  enter  the  prison  on  the  other  side  ;  the 
doors  there  are  closed  and  locked,  the  building  still  being  used  as  a 
prison. 

Ever  so  much  more  shall  we  do  in  Venice.  We  shall  go 
in  gondolas,  and  see  the  old  dock-yards  where  the  ships  of  the 
Crusaders  were  fitted  out  ;  we  shall  visit  the  Academy  of  Fine 
Arts,  where  we  may  study  some  of  the  finest  works  of  that  most 
celebrated  of  all  Venetians,  the  painter  Titian  ;  we  shall  take  a 
steamboat  to  the  Lido,  an  island  out  at  sea  where  the  citizens  go 
to  bathe  and  to  breathe  the  sea  air  ;   we  shall  go  out  upon    the 


Il8  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

broad  Giudecca,  a  wide  channel  between  Venice  and  one  of  its 
suburbs  ;  we  shall  explore  churches  and  palaces  ;  and,  above  all,  we 
shall  float  by  daylight  and  by  moonlight,  if  there  happens  to  be  a 
moon,  over  the  canals,  under  the  bridges,  and  between  the  tall  and 
picturesque  walls  and  palaces,  which  make  Venice  the  strange 
and  delightful  city  that  she  is. 


VII. 


A    MOUNTAIN    TOP,    AND    HOW    WE    GET    THERE. 

THE  mountain  to  which  we  are  now  going  is  in  Switzerland — 
that  country  which  contains  more  celebrated  mountains,  more 
beautiful  mountains,  more  accessible  mountains,  and,  I  may 
add,  more  useful  mountains,  than  any  other  country  in  the  world. 
There  is  no  part  of  Switzerland  where  mountains  are  not  to  be 
seen  ;  and  to  travel  in  that  country  it  is  generally  necessary  to  cross 
the  mountains,  to  go  around  their  sides,  or  to  go  through  them. 
Switzerland,  indeed,  may  be  said  to  be  a  great  deal  larger  than 
would  be  supposed,  from  the  very  limited  extent  of  its  boundary 
lines,  because  so  much  of  the  surface  is  piled  up  into  the  air,  in 
the  shape  of  mountains.  If  it  were  Battened  out,  it  would  overrun 
great  parts  of  the  surrounding  countries. 

These  vast  eminences,  which  lie  in  chains  and  groups  all  over 
the  country,  are  called  Alps,  and  they  are  divided  into  three  classes 
— the  High  Alps,  the  Middle  Alps,  and  the  Lower  Alps.  The  first 
of  these  divisions  consists  of  those  mountains  the  tops  of  which 
rise  above  the  snow  line,  which  is  about  eight  thousand  feet  above 
the  sea.  The  portions  of  a  mountain  which  are  higher  than  this 
imaginary  line  are  covered  with  snow  which  never  melts,  even  in 
summer.  The  Middle  Alps  are  those  which  raise  themselves  above 
the  height  at  which  all  trees  cease  to  gfrow,  or  four  thousand  five 
hundred  feet  above  the  sea.  The  Lower  Alps  are  more  than  two 
thousand  feet  high,  but  do  not  rise  to  the  altitude  of  the  last 
division. 


I20  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

The  word  alp  means  a  mountain  pasture,  and  many  of  the  lower 
mountains,  as  well  as  great  portions  of  the  sides  of  the  higher 
ones,  are  covered  with  rich  grass,  on  which,  during  the  summer 
time,  great  numbers  of  cattle  graze.  In  queer  little  cJialcts,  or 
Swiss  huts,  which  look  as  if  they  were  nearly  all  roof,  scattered 
here  and  there  upon  the  grassy  sides  of  the  mountains,  live  the 
people,  who  attend  to  the  cattle,  and  make  butter  and  cheese. 

Nothing  can  be  more  picturesque  than  some  of  these  Alpine 
pastures,  with  their  great  slopes  of  rich  green,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  dark-red  chalets.  The  cattle  wander  about  over  the 
grass,  and  sometimes,  on  the  rocks,  we  see  a  girl  blowing  a  horn 
to  call  toofether  her  flock  of  ofoats.  Beautiful  flowers  of  various 
colors  spring  up  on  every  side,  the  air  is  warm  and  pleasant,  and 
everything  gives  the  idea  of  a  lovely  summer  scene  ;  while  just 
above,  in  the  hollow  of  a  ravine,  to  which  we  could  walk  in  ten 
minutes,  lies  a  great  mass  of  white  and  glittering  snow,  which 
never  melts. 

Almost  all  persons  who  travel  in  Switzerland  have  a  great  desire 
to  go  to  the  top  of  at  least  one  of  the  towering  peaks  they  see 
about  tlicm,  and  mountain  ascensions  are  very  common  and  pop- 
ular. Some  go  up  one  kind  of  mountain,  and  some  another;  and 
the  kind  is  generally  determined  by  their  spirit  of  enterprise,  their 
general  health,  and  the  strength  of  their  legs.  There  is  such  a 
choice  of  mountains  in  Switzerland,  and  such  a  variety  of  ways  of 
going  to  the  top  of  them,  that  there  are  few  persons  who  cannot 
make  an  ascension,  if  they  desire  it. 

The  highest  of  all  the  mountains  in  Europe  is  Mont  Blanc, 
which  towers  fifteen  thousand  seven  hundred  and  thirty-one  feet 
into  the  air.  Althoucfh  this  trreat  mountain  is  not  in  Switzerland, 
but  in  Savoy,  it  is  very  near  the  Swiss  boundary  line,  and  is  plainly 
visible  from  Geneva.      It  is  considered  one  of  the  principal   sights 


A    MOUNTAIN  TOP,    AND   HOW    WE   GET  THERE.  121 

of  that  charming  little  city,  and  many  travellers  never  see  it  from 
any  other  point.  Although  many  people  ascend  Mont  Blanc  every 
year,  the  undertaking  requires  a  great  degree  of  muscular  as  well 
as  nervous  strength.  The  top  of  Mont  Blanc  cannot  be  reached 
in  less  than  two  days,  and  fine  weather  is  absolutely  necessary,  for 
in  storms  or  fogs  the  climbers  would  be  apt  to  lose  their  way,  and 
this  would  be  very  dangerous.  Some  years  ago  a  party  of  eleven 
persons  lost  their  lives  on  Mont  Blanc  in  consequence  of  being 
overtaken  by  a  storm.  The  first  day  the  traveller  ascends  about 
ten  thousand  feet,  to  a  place  called  the  Grands  Mulets.  Here,  in 
a  little  stone  hut,  he  passes  the  night,  or  rather  part  of  it,  for  he  is 
obliged  to  start  again  in  the  very  small  hours  of  the  next  morning. 
When  the  top  is  reached,  and  one  stands  on  the  highest  peak  of 
that  vast  mass  of  eternal  snow,  he  has  the  proud  satisfaction  of 
being  there;  but  he  does  not  find  that  the  highest  point  in  Switzer- 
land gives  him  the  grandest  view.  The  surrounding  mountains 
and  landscape  are  at  so  great  a  distance  that  sometimes  they  are 
not  seen  at  all,  and  it  is  only  in  a  very  clear  atmosphere  that  you 
get  an  idea  of  the  mountain  chains  which  lie  about  Mont  Blanc. 

The  ascent  is,  also,  not  a  cheap  pleasure.  No  person  is  allowed 
to  go  up  with  less  than  two  guides,  and  each  of  these  must  be  paid 
a  hundred  francs,  or  twenty  dollars.  Then  a  porter  is  required  to 
carry  provisions  and  extra  clothing,  and  he  must  be  paid  fifty 
francs.  At  the  little  hut,  at  Grands  Mulets,  the  climber  is  charged 
more  for  his  accommodation  than  he  would  have  to  pay  at  a  first- 
class  New  York  hotel ;  and  if  he  thinks  to  economize  by  making  a 
supper  and  breakfast  out  of  the  provisions  he  has  brought  with 
him,  he  is  charged  five  dollars  for  his  bed.  It  is  of  no  use  to  try 
to  get  the  better  of  a  person  who  keeps  a  hut  hotel  ten  thousand 
feet  in  the  air,  where  there  is  no  opposition.  If  one  does  not  like 
the  terms,  he  may  sleep  in  the  snow.     When  a  party  goes  up,  the 


122  PERSONALLV  CONDUCTED. 

expenses  of  each  member  are  somewhat  lessened ;  but  the  trip  is, 
in  any  case,  a  costly  one.  For  this  reason,  and  on  account  of  the 
hardships  and  dangers  incurred  in  climbing  its  vast  and  snowy 
steeps,  the  majority  of  tourists  are  content  to  gaze  upon  the  tower- 
ing heights  of  Mont  Blanc  without  attempting  to  ascend  them. 

The  more  dangerous  peaks  of  Switzerland,  such  as  the  Matter- 
horn,  are  only  ascended  by  skilful  and  practised  mountain-climb- 
ers, and  even  these  often  meet  with  disaster.  On  the  first  ascent 
of  the  Matterhorn,  four  persons  lost  their  lives  by  falling  the  dread- 
ful distance  of  four  thousand  feet ;  and  not  far  from  this  mountain 
is  a  little  cemetery  containing  the  graves  of  travellers  who  have 
perished  in  climbing  this  and  neighboring  heights.  But  there  are 
mountains  in  Switzerland  the  summits  of  which  can  be  reached 
by  persons  capable  of  sustaining  ordinary  fatigue,  and  they  are 
ascended  every  summer  by  hundreds  of  travellers,  many  of  whom 
are  ladies.  The  latter  sometimes  prove  themselves  very  steady  and 
enduring  climbers,  and  in  Switzerland  it  very  often  happens  that 
when  a  boy  starts  out  on  an  excursion  he  cannot  tell  his  sister  that 
she  must  stay  at  home  that  day,  because  he  is  going  to  climb  a 
mountain.  Give  a  girl  an  alpenstock — a  long  stick  with  a  spike  in 
the  end — a  pair  of  heavy  boots  with  rough  nails  in  the  soles,  and 
if  she  be  in  good  health,  and  accustomed  to  exercise,  she  can  climb 
very  high  up  in  the  world  on  a  Swiss  mountain. 

But,  althou"-h  a  fine  view  mav  be  obtained  from  a  mountain  six, 
eight,  or  ten  thousand  feet  high,  and  although  the  ascent  may  not 
be  really  dangerous,  it  is  of  no  use  to  assert  that  it  is  an  easy  thing 
to  go  up  such  mountains  ;  and  there  are  few  of  them  on  which 
there  are  not  some  places,  necessary  to  pass,  where  a  slip  would 
make  it  extremely  unpleasant  for  the  person  slipping.  There  are 
a  great  many  travellers,  not  used  to  climbing,  or  not  able  to  do  so, 
whose  nerves   are   not   in  that   perfect   order  which   would  enable 


A    MOUNTAIN  TOP,    AND   NOW    WE   GET  THERE.  1 23 

them  to  stand  on  the  edge  of  even  a  moderately  high  precipice 
without  feeling  giddy  ;  and  yet  these  people  would  like  very  much 
to  have  a  view  from  a  mountai.n-top,  and  they  naturally  feel  inter- 
ested when  they  find  that  there  is  in  Switzerland  a  mountain,  and 
a  high  one,  too,  from  which  a  magnificent  view  may  be  obtained, 
that  can  be  ascended  without  any  fatigue  or  any  danger. 

To  this  mountain  we  are  now  going.  It  is  called  the  Rigi,  and 
it  is  situated  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  Lake  of  Lucerne,  or,  as 
the  Swiss  call  it,  "The  Lake  of  the  Four  Forest  Cantons;"  and 
there  is,  probably,  no  lake  in  the  world  more  beautiful,  or  sur- 
rounded by  grander  scenery.  It  is  also  full  of  interest  historically, 
for  its  shores  were  the  scenes  of  the  first  efforts  for  Swiss  inde- 
pendence. On  one  of  its  arms,  the  Lake  of  Uri,  we  are  shown  the 
place  where  William  Tell  sprang  on  the  rocks  when  escaping  from 
the  boat  of  the  tyrant  Gessler  ;  and  in  the  little  village  of  Altorf, 
not  far  away,  he  shot  the  apple  from  his  son's  head. 

At  the  edge  of  the  lake,  at  the  very  foot  of  the  Rigi,  is  the 
small  town  of  Vitznau,  and  it  is  to  this  place  that  the  people 
who  wish  to  ascend  the  mountain  betake  themselves,  by  steam- 
boat. On  the  other  side  of  the  mountain  there  is  another  small 
town,  called  Arth,  where  tourists  coming  from  the  north  begin 
their  ascent;  but  we  shall  go  up  from  Lake  Lucerne,  and  start 
from  Vitznau.  Arrived  at  this  town,  we  find  ourselves  at  the 
foot  of  a  towering  mountain,  which  stretches  for  miles  to  the  east 
and  west,  so  that  it  is  more  like  a  short  mountainous  chain  than  a 
single  eminence.  Its  loftiest  peak  is  five  thousand  nine  hundred 
and  six  feet — about  the  heitrht  of  our  own  Mount  Washineton,  in 
the  White  Mountains. 

In  preparing  to  climb  the  Rigi,  it  is  not  necessary  for  us 
to  adopt  the  costume  usually  worn  by  mountain  climbers  in 
Switzerland,  which,   in   the  case   of   men  and   boys,   consists  of  a 


124  P£/iSOXALLr  COXDCCTED. 

very  short  coat,  knickerbocker  trousers  buttoned  at  the  knee,  heavy 
woollen  stockinos.  stout  laced  boots  with  the  soles  covered  with 
projecting-  nails,  a  little  knapsack  on  the  back,  and  a  long  alpen- 
stock in  the  hand.  We  need  not  carry  any  provisions,  but  it  is 
necessary  to  take  some  extra  wraps  with  us,  for  at  the  top  it  is 
often  vers-  cold ;  but  althouoh  the  mountain  is  verv  hioh.  and  its 
top  rises  above  the  limit  of  the  growth  of  trees,  it  does  not  reach 
to  the  line  of  eternal  snow. 

There  are  no  icy  slopes  up  which  we  must  scramble  ;  there  are 
no  crevasses,  reaching  down  hundreds  of  feet  into  the  heart  of  the 
mountain,  over  which  we  must  slowly  creep  by  means  of  a  plank  or 
ladder;  there  are  no  narrow  footpaths,  with  a  towering  wall  of  rock 
on  one  side  and  a  terrible  precipice  yawning  on  the  other  ;  there 
are  no  wide  and  glistening  snow-fields,  on  which,  if  one  of  us  slips 
and  falls,  he  may  slide  away  so  swiftly  and  so  far  that  he  may  never 
be  seen  a^ain  ;  there  are  no  vast  fissures  covered  with  newlv-fallen 
snow,  on  which,  if  a  person  carelessly  treads,  he  disappears  forever. 

There  is  also  no  necessitv  of  our  walkino'  in  a  line  with  a  loner 
rope  tied  from  one  to  the  other,  so  that  if  one  of  us  slips  the  others 
may  hold  back  and  keep  him  from  falling  or  sliding  very  far.  None 
of  these  dangers,  which  are  to  be  encountered  bv  those  who  ascend 
the  higher  Alps  and  many  of  the  lower  Swiss  mountains,  are  to 
be  met  with  here;  and  the  precautions  which  those  persons  must 
not  fail  to  take  are  not  required  on  the  Rigi.  All  that  is  necessary 
when  we  are  readv  to  make  the  ascent  is  to  buv  our  tickets  and 
take  our  seats  in  a  wide  and  comfortable  railway  car.  There  is  a 
funny  little  locomotive  at  one  end  of  this  car.  and  there  is  a  line 
of  rails  which  leads  by  various  curves  and  windings  and  steep 
ascents  up  to  the  top  of  the  mountain.  The  locomotive  will  do 
the  climbintr.  and  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  sit  still,  and  look  about, 
and  see  what  there  is  to  be  seen. 


SCENES   ON    THE    RIGI    RAILWAY. 


A    MOUNTAIN  TOP,    AND  HOW    WE  GET  THERE.  12 J 

This  railway  and  the  httie  locomotive  are  very  different  from 
those  in  ordinary  use  on  level  ground.  The  rails  are  about  the 
usual  distance  apart,  but  between  them  are  two  other  very  strong 
rails,  lying  near  to  each  other,  and  connected  by  a  series  of  stout 
iron  bars,  like  teeth.  Under  the  locomotive  is  a  cogwheel  which 
fits  into  these  teeth,  and  as  it  is  turned  around  by  the  engine  it 
forces  the  locomotive  up  the  steep  incline.  There  is  but  one  car 
to  each  train,  and  this  is  always  placed  above  the  engine,  so  that 
it  is  pushed  along  when  it  is  going  up,  and  held  back  when  it  is 
comincr  down.  The  car  is  not  attached  to  the  locomotive ;  so  that, 
if  anything  happens  to  the  latter,  the  car  can  be  instantly  stopped 
by  means  of  a  brake  which  acts  on  the  teeth  between  the  rails, 
and  the  locomotive  can  go  on  down  by  itself.  There  is  no  power 
required  in  going  down,  and  all  the  engine  has  to  do  is  to  hold 
back  sturdily,  and  keep  the  car  from  coming  down  too  fast.  This 
may  be  the  reason,  perhaps,  why  persons  are  charged  only  half 
as  much  for  coming  down  as  they  are  charged  for  going  up. 

The  locomotive  does  not  stand  up  straight  in  the  ordinary  way, 
but  leans  backward,  and  when  on  level  ground  it  looks  very  much 
as  if  it  had  broken  down  at  one  end  ;  but  when  it  is  on  the  steep 
inclines  of  the  mountain,  its  depressed  end,  which  always  goes 
first,  is  then  as  high  as  the  other,  and  the  smoke-stack  stands  up 
perpendicularly.  The  seats  in  the  cars,  too,  slope  so  that  the  pas- 
sengers will  not  slip  off  them  when  one  end  of  the  car  is  tilted  up. 
The  ascents  of  the  road  are  often  quite  surprising,  and  one  won- 
ders how  the  locomotive  is  ever  eoinfr  to  e^t  the  car,  containing 
forty  or  fifty  people,  up  those  steep  inclines.  But  up  it  always 
goes,  steadily  and  resolutely,  for  the  little  engine  has  the  power 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty  horses. 

The  whole  road  is  about  four  and  a  half  miles  longf,  and 
although  the  locomotive  is  so  strong,  it  only  goes  at  the  rate  of 


128  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

three  miles  an  hour,  so  that  an  active  person  walking  by  its  side 
might  keep  up  with  it  for  a  time,  though  he  would  be  likely  to  be 
very  tired  before  he  had  gone  far. 

As  we  slowly  ascend  the  Rigi,  in  this  comfortable  way,  we  find 
that  we  are  takinof  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  novel  excursions 
of  our  lives.  If  the  weather  be  fine,  there  breaks  upon  the  eye,  as 
we  rise  higher  and  higher,  a  succession  of  those  views  of  moun- 
tain, lake,  and  forest,  which  only  can  be  had  from  an  elevated  posi- 
tion ;  and  as  one  of  these  views  suddenly  appears,  and  then  is  cut 
off  by  a  turn  in  the  road,  to  be  presently  succeeded  by  another,  we 
have  a  foretaste  of  what  we  are  going  to  enjoy  when  we  arrive  at 
the  top.  The  scenery  immediately  about  the  railway  is  also  very 
interesting,  and  some  of  the  incidents  of  the  trip  are  not  only 
novel,  but  startling.  Sometimes  the  little  train  traverses  regions 
of  wild  forest  and  rocks  ;  sometimes  it  winds  along  the  edge  of 
savage  precipices  ;  now  it  passes  into  a  dark  and  dreary  tunnel, 
from  which  it  emerges  to  take  an  airy  flight  over  a  long  and  nar- 
row bridee,  which  we  in  the  car  cannot  see  beneath  us,  and  where 
we  look  far  down  upon  the  tree-tops  we  are  passing  over.  Through 
wild  and  desolate  scenes,  by  forests,  rocks,  and  waterfalls,  we  pass, 
the  little  locomotive  always  puffing  and  pushing  vigorously  behind 
us,  until  we  reach  a  level  plateau,  on  which  stands  a  large  and 
handsome  hotel,  with  numerous  outbuildings.  This  is  called  the 
Rigi  Kaltbad,  and  the  situation  is  a  very  beautiful  one.  Many 
people  come  here  to  spend  days,  and  even  weeks,  enjoying  the 
mountain  walks  and  the  grand  scenery. 

But,  after  a  short  stop  at  the  station  here,  our  train  passes 
on,  and  before  long  we  reach  another  plateau,  much  higher  up, 
which  is  called  Rigi  vStaffel,  where  there  is  another  large  hotel. 
Then,  on  we  go,  up  a  steep  ledge,  on  the  edge  of  a  cliff  which  it 
seems  impossible   that  any  train   could   ascend,  until  we   reach  the 


A    MOUNTAIN  TOP,    AND  HOW    WE  GET  THERE.  129 


Rigi  Kulm,  the  highest  part  of  the  mountain.  When  we  ahght 
from  the  tram,  we  see  a  large  and  handsome  hotel,  with  several 
smaller  buildings  surrounding  it,  but  we  find  we  are  not  on  the 
very  loftiest  peak  of  the  Kulm.  To  this  point  we  must  walk,  but 
there  are  broad  and  easy  paths  leading  to  it,  and  the  ascent  is  not 
very  great,  and  does  not  require  many  minutes. 

When  we  walk  past  the  hotel,  and  the  uppermost  part  of  the 
Kulm  comes  into  view,  the  first  thing  that  catches  our  attention  is 
a  long  line  of  wide-spread  white  umbrellas.  As  we  rise  higher,  we 
see  that  these  umbrellas  are  not  held  by  anybody,  but  each  one 
is  fastened  over  a  small  stand,  containing  articles  of  carved  wood 
or  ivory,  boxes,  bears,  birds,  spoons,  forks,  and  all  those  useful 
and  ornamental  little  things  which  the  Swiss  make  so  well  and 
are  so  anxious  to  sell.  There  are  so  many  of  these  booths  and 
stands,  with  the  women  and  men  attending  to  them,  that  it  seems 
as  if  a  little  fair,  or  bazaar,  is  being  held  on  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain. 

We  shall  doubtless  be  surprised  that  the  first  thing  that  attracts 
our  attention  at  this  famous  place  should  be  preparations  to  make 
money  out  of  us  ;  but  everywhere  through  Switzerland  the  traveller 
finds  people  who  wish  to  sell  him  something,  or  who  continually 
volunteer  to  do  something  for  which  they  wish  him  to  pay.  As  he 
drives  along  the  country  roads,  little  girls  throw  bunches  of  wild 
flowers  into  his  carriage,  and  then  run  by  its  side  expecting  some 
money  in  return.  By  the  roadside,  in  the  most  lonely  places,  he 
will  find  women  and  girls  sitting  behind  little  tables  on  which  they 
are  making  lace,  which,  with  a  collection  of  tiny  Swiss  chalets,  and 
articles  of  carved  wood,  they  are  very  eager  to  sell.  When  the 
road  passes  near  a  precipitous  mountain-side,  he  will  find  a  man 
with  a  long  Alpine  horn,  who  awakens  the  echoes  and  expects 
some  pennies.  At  another  place  a  fenced  pathway  leads  into  a 
9 


I30  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED, 

little  wood,  and  a  notice  informs  him  that  he  may  enter  and  get 
a  view  of  the  Black  Falls  for  four  cents. 

When  I  was  at  Grindelwald,  a  little  villao-e  amone  the  Higher 
Alps,  I  went  part  way  up  a  mountain  to  visit  a  glacier.  These 
masses  of  ice,  which  lie  in  the  ravines  of  the  mountains,  are  often 
of  great  depth,  extending  downward  for  hundreds  of  feet,  and  are 
formed  by  the  melting  of  the  snow  in  the  lower  part  of  the  snow- 
fields  above.  The  water  trickles  down  when  the  sun  shines  on  it, 
and  is  frozen  at  night ;  and  thus,  in  the  course  of  centuries,  a  vast 
and  solid  mass  of  ice  is  formed  which  is  sometimes  fifteen  hundred 
feet  thick.  In  the  glacier  which  I  visited,  a  long  tunnel  had  been 
cut,  through  which  a  person  could  comfortably  walk,  and  this  led 
to  a  fairly  large  room  hewn  in  the  very  heart  of  the  glacier,  and 
called  the  Ice  Grotto.  There  were  lamps  placed  here  and  there, 
by  which  this  frigid  passage  was  dimly  lighted,  and  the  sensation 
of  finding  one's  self  in  the  middle  of  a  vast  block  of  ice  was  truly 
novel.  The  walls  and  roof  of  the  tunnel  were  transparent  for  a 
considerable  distance,  and  I  could  look  into  the  very  substance  of 
the  clear  blue  ice  around  me.  I  followed  the  man  who  acted  as 
my  guide  to  the  end  of  the  tunnel,  and  then  we  mounted  a  few 
steps  into  the  grotto,  which  was  lighted  by  a  single  lamp.  The 
moment  I  set  foot  inside  this  wonderful  chamber,  with  walls,  roof, 
and  floor  of  purest  ice,  I  heard  a  queer  tinkling  and  thumping  in 
one  corner,  and  looking  there,  I  saw  two  old  women,  each  playing 
on  a  doleful  little  zither.  They  looked  like  two  horrible  old 
witches  of  the  ice.  Of  course  I  knew  that  they  were  playing  for 
my  benefit ;  and  I  wondered  if  they  always  sat  there  in  that  enor- 
mous refrioferator,  waitincr  for  the  visitors  who  mioht  enter  and 
pfive  them  a  few  centimes  in  return  for  their  mournful  strumming. 
But  when  I  went  out,  I  found  that  the  old  women  soon  followed, 
and  I  suppose  they  go  into  tlie  glacier  and  ensconce  themselves  in 


A    MOUNTAIN  TOP,    AND   HOW    WE  GET  THERE.  131 

their  freezing  retreat  whenever  they  see  a  tourist  coming  up  the 
mountain-side. 

And  now,  having  recovered  from  our  shght  surprise  at  seeing 
the  signs  of  traffic  on  the  very  top  of  the  mountain,  we  pass  the 
booths  and  advance  to  a  wooden  raiHng,  which  is  built  on  the 
northern  edge  of  the  Kulm,  The  first  thing  that  strikes  our  eyes 
is  a  vast  phiin,  lying  far  below  us,  which,  to  some  people,  seems  at 
first  like  an  immense  marsh,  partly  green  and  partly  covered  with 
dark  patches,  and  with  pools  of  water  here  and  there.  But  when 
the  eye  becomes  accustomed  to  this  extent  of  view,  we  see  that 
those  dark  patches  are  great  forests  ;  that  those  pools  are  lakes,  on 
the  shores  of  which  towns  and  cities  are  built ;  and  this  plain  before 
us  is  the  whole  of  North  Switzerland. 

As  we  turn  and  look  about  us,  we  see  a  panorama  of  three 
hundred  miles  in  circuit.  To  the  south  lies  a  mighty  and  glorious 
range  of  snow-clad  Alps,  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  in  length. 
We  see  the  white  peaks  glittering  in  the  sun,  the  darker  glaciers 
in  the  ravines,  the  wide  snow-fields,  clear  and  distinct.  Between 
us  and  these  giants  are  lower  mountains,  some  green  and  wooded, 
some  bold  and  rocky.  Towns,  villages,  and  chalets  are  dotted 
everywhere  in  the  valleys  and  on  the  plains. 

The  view  is  one  of  the  grandest  and  most  beautiful  in  Europe. 

The  north  side  of  the  Rigi  is  almost  precipitous,  and  as  we 
again  lean  over  the  railing  and  look  down  its  dizzy  slopes,  we  see 
lying  at  our  very  feet  the  whole  Lake  of  Zug.  Three  large  towns 
are  upon  its  banks,  and  a  number  of  villages.  A  steamboat,  appar- 
ently about  the  size  of  a  spool  of  thread,  is  making  its  way  across 
the  lake.  To  the  left,  a  ereat  oart  of  the  Lake  of  Lucerne  is  visible, 
with  the  city  of  Lucerne  at  one  end  of  it,  its  pinnacles,  towers,  and 
walls  plainly  in  view.  Away  to  the  north,  we  see  a  portion  of  the 
city  of  Zurich,  although  the  greater  part  of  it  is  hidden  by  an  inter- 


132 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


venincr  hill.  On  the  northern  horizon  lies  the  famous  Black  For 
est,  and  the  lonor  line  of  the  jura  Mountains  is  visible  to  the  west. 
Looking"  here  and  there,  we  can  count,  in  all,  thirteen  lakes. 

The  top  of  the  Kulm  is  rounded  and  grassy,  and  we  can  walk 
about  and  look  at  the  wonderful  views  from  various  points.  At 
one  place  there  is  a  high  wooden  platform,  to  which  we  ascend  by 


THE    RIGl. — SHOWING    RAILWAY    TO    THE   TOP    OF   THE    MOUNTAIN. 


steps,  at  the  side  of  which  hangs  a  little  box  with  a  hole  in  the  top, 
with  an  inscription  in  three  languages  asking  us  not  to  forget  to 
remember  the  owner  of  this  belvedere.  From  this  platform,  which 
is  provided  with  a  railing  and  benches,  we  can  get  a  clear  view  in 
every  direction  ;  and  stuck  about,  in  little  sockets,  are  small  colored 
glasses,  through  which  we  may  look  at  the  landscape.  When  we 
hold  a  yellow   one   before   our  eyes,   mountains   and    plains   seem 


A   MOUNTAIN  TOP,    AND  HOW    WE  GET  THERE.  1 33 

glowing  beneath  a  golden  sky  ;  a  red  one  gives  us  an  idea  that  the 
whole  world  is  on  fire  ;  while  through  a  blue  one  everything  looks 
cold,  dreary,  and  cheerless. 

But  we  quickly  put  dov/n  the  glasses.  We  want  no  such  things 
as  these  to  help  us  enjoy  those  glorious  scenes. 

While  we  stand  and  gaze  from  the  wide-spread  plain  to  the 
stupendous  mountain  ranges,  the  sun  begins  to  set  ;  and  as  it 
sinks  below  the  horizon,  the  white  peaks  and  snow^y  masses  of  the 
long  line  of  Alps  are  gradually  tinged  with  that  beautiful  rosy  tint 
which  is  called  the  after-glow.  Never  were  mountains  more  beau- 
tiful than  these  now  appear,  and  we  remain  and  look  upon  them 
until  they  fade  away  into  the  cold,  desolate,  and  awful  regions  that 
they  are. 

The  view  of  the  sunrise  from  the  Kulm  is  one  of  the  Qfreat 
sights  enjoyed  by  visitors,  and  many  persons  come  to  the  Rigi  on 
purpose  to  witness  it.  On  fine  mornings,  hundreds  of  tourists  may 
be  seen  gathered  together  at  daybreak  on  the  top  of  the  Kulm.  It  is 
generally  very  cold  at  this  hour,  and  they  are  wrapped  in  overcoats, 
shawls,  and  even  blankets  taken  from  the  beds,  althouo-h  there  are 
notices  in  each  of  the  hotel  rooms  that  this  is  forbidden.  But  all 
shivering  and  shaking  is  forgotten  when,  one  after  another,  the 
highest  snow-peaks  are  lighted  up  by  the  sun,  which  has  not  yet 
appeared  to  view,  and  when,  gradually  and  beautifully,  the  whole 
vast  landscape  is  flooded  with  the  glory  of  the  day. 

But  the  people  who  go  up  on  the  Rigi  to  make  a  stay  at  the 
hotels  do  not  content  themselves  with  gazing  at  the  grand  pano- 
rama to  be  seen  from  the  Kulm.  The  life  and  the  scenes  on  the 
mountain  itself  are  full  of  interest.  Its  promontories,  slopes,  and 
valleys  are  covered  with  rich  grass,  over  which  it  is  delightful  to 
ramble  and  climb.  Below  the  Risfi  Staffel  is  a  beautiful  o-reen 
hollow,  called  the  valley  of   Kl5sterli  ;  handsome  cattle,  with  their 


134  PLRSOAALLF   CONDUCTED. 

tinkling  bells,  ramble  over  Its  rich  pastures  ;  and  the  brown  cottages 
of  the  herdsmen  are  seen  here  and  there.  There  is  a  Capuchin 
monastery  and  chapel  in  this  valley,  which  was  built  nearly  two 
hundred  years  ago,  where  the  Sunday  congregation  is  composed 
of  the  herdsmen  on  the  mountain.  A  branch  railroad,  about  four 
miles  long,  runs  on  a  ridge  of  the  mountain  to  a  promontory 
called  the  Scheideck,  from  which  an  admirable  prospect  may  be 
had,  and  where  there  is  a  hotel ;  and  from  the  Kaltbad,  which  was 
mentioned  before,  there  is  a  pleasant  rural  walk  toward  the  other 
end  of  the  Rigi  range,  to  a  place  called  the  Kanzli,  from  which  the 
most  charming  views,  near  and  distant,  may  be  had. 

Never  was  there  a  mountain  so  well  adapted  to  boys  and  girls 
as  the  Rigi.  Once  arrived  upon  the  upper  parts  of  this  mountain, 
which  stretches  far  and  wide,  there  is  found  every  inducement  for 
scramble,  walk,  and  climb,  in  places  which  are  not  at  all  dangerous. 
The  Rothstock,  the  Kulm,  and  other  grassy  peaks  can  be  ascended ; 
long  tramps  can  be  taken  through  the  valleys  ;  the  herdsmen's  cot- 
tages and  the  monastery  can  be  visited — and  all  this  in  a  mountain 
air  which  gives  one  strength,  spirit,  and  appetite. 

The  young  folk,  as  well  as  grown  people,  are  to  be  seen 
rambling  everywhere.  One  day,  as  I  was  walking  toward  a  place 
from  which  there  was  a  good  view,  I  heard  a  step  behind  me,  and 
directly  I  was  passed  by  a  regular  mountain  climber.  He  was  a 
tall  young  man,  with  a  mighty  stride.  He  wore  a  flannel  shirt, 
with  no  coat  or  vest,  but  these  hung  at  his  back  from  a  strap 
around  his  waist.  On  his  powerful  legs  were  knickerbockers  and 
a  pair  of  long  red  stockings,  and  in  his  hand  he  held  a  long-pointed 
alpenstock.  Up  the  mountain  straight  toward  the  highest  point  of 
the  Kulm,  he  went,  steadily  and  swiftly  as  a  two-legged  engine.  He 
was  such  a  man  as  "we  would  probably  meet  on  the  snowy  peaks 
of  the  Higher  Alps,  if  we  should  happen  to  be  wandering  there. 


A    MOUNTAIN  TOP,    AND  HOW   WE  GET  THERE.  135 

Shortly  after  this  young  athlete  had  passed,  I  saw,  coming 
down  the  mountain,  a  lady  and  her  little  boy.  The  youngster, 
about  six  years  old,  who  marched  behind  his  mother,  was  equipped 
in  true  mountaineer  style.  His  little  coat  hung  at  his  little  back  ; 
on  his  little  lesfs  he  wore  knickerbockers  and  lone  stockings,  and 
on  his  feet  a  pair  of  little  hobnailed  shoes  ;  in  his  hand  he  carried 
a  little  alpenstock.  His  mother  was  a  good  walker,  but  she  did 
not  leave  her  boy  behind.  With  strides  as  long  as  his  little  legs 
could  make,  he  followed  her  bravely  down  the  hill,  punching  his 
sharp  stick  into  the  ground  at  every  step,  as  if  he  wished  to  make 
the  mountain  feel  that  he  was  there.  He  was  just  as  full  of  the 
spirit  of  the  Alpine  climber,  and  enjoyed  his  tramp  quite  as  much, 
as  the  practised  mountaineer  who  was  striding  away  toward  the 
Kulm. 

Girls  there  were,  too,  whole  parties  of  them,  each  with  an  alpen- 
stock in  her  hand,  on  every  grassy  knoll,  on  every  path  through 
the  valleys  or  along  the  ridges.  In  ordinary  life  it  is  not  custom- 
ary for  girls  and  ladies  to  carry  sticks  or  canes,  but  some  of  these 
become  so  fond  of  their  long  alpenstocks  that  I  have  seen  girls 
with  these  iron-pointed  sticks  in  their  hands,  walking  about  the 
cities  of  Switzerland,  where  they  were  of  no  more  use  than  a 
third  shoe. 

It  is  not  only  in  fine  weather  that  life  on  this  mountain  is  to  be 
enjoyed.  The  approach  of  a  storm  is  a  grand  sight ;  great  clouds 
gathering  on  the  crests  of  the  higher  peaks  of  the  mountain  chains, 
and  sweeping  down  in  battle  array  upon  hills,  valleys,  and  plains. 
Even  in  the  rain,  the  views  have  a  strange  and  varied  appearance 
which  is  very  attractive  ;  and  every  change  in  the  weather  produces 
changes  in  the  landscape,  sometimes  quite  novel  and  unexpected, 
and  almost  always  grand  or  beautiful. 

There   is   only  one   kind   of  weather   in  which  the   Rigi   is  not 


136  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

attractive.  On  my  third  day  on  the  mountain,  I  was  sitting  in  the 
dining-room  of  the  hotel,  taking  my  midday  meal,  with  about  a 
hundred  other  guests,  when  I  heard  a  loud  groan  from  one  of  the 
tables  ;  then  there  was  another  and  another  ;  and,  directly,  a  chorus 
of  groans  arose  from  every  part  of  the  long  dining-room.  Look- 
ing about  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  I  noticed  that  everybody 
was  staring  out  of  the  windows.  When  I  looked  out  I  saw  a  sight 
that  was  worth  seeing,  and  one  that  was  enough  to  make  anybody 
groan  who  knew  what  it'meant,  A  great  cloud  was  coming  down 
out  of  the  sky  directly  upon  the  Rigi.  It  was  heavy  and  gray,  and 
its  form  was  plainly  defined  in  the  clear  air  around  it.  When  it 
had  spread  itself  above  us,  almost  touching  the  roof  of  the  house, 
we  could  see,  below  its  far-reaching  edges,  the  distant  landscape 
still  sparkling  in  the  sunlight.  Then  it  came  down,  and  blotted  us 
out  from  the  view  of  all  the  world.  To  the  people  below,  the  top 
of  the  Rigi  was  covered  with  a  cloud,  and  to  us  there  was  nothing 
to  be  seen  twenty  feet  from  the  window.  Now  there  were  no 
views,  there  were  no  walks,  there  was  no  sitting  out-of-doors,  there 
was  nothing  that  one  came  to  the  Rio^i  for.  No  wonder  that  the 
people  groaned.  All  their  plans  for  outdoor  pleasure  had  been 
brought  to  a  sudden  end  by  this  swiftly  descending  cloud,  which 
those  who  were  wise  in  such  matters  believed  would  not  soon  dis- 
appear. It  was  evidently  the  beginning  of  bad  weather,  and  those 
who  remained  on  the  mountain  tops  must  live  in  the  clouds  for 
several  days.  When  nothing  was  to  be  seen,  and  nothing  was  to 
be  done,  it  was  a  good  time  to  leave  the  Rigi ;  and  so,  in  company 
with  a  great  many  other  visitors—for  it  was  near  the  end  of  the 
season,  and  people  could  not  wait  for  better  weather  as  they  could 
have  done  a  few  weeks  earlier — I  took  leave  of  the  mountain,  know- 
ing very  well  that  the  little  locomotive  could  find  its  way  down, 
cloud  or  no  cloud. 


A    MOUNTAIN  TOP,    AND  HOW   WE  GET  THERE.  137 

We  may  not  have  such  an  experience  as  this,  but  we  shall  leave 
the  Rigi,  carrying  with  us  recollections,  which  no  rain  could  ever 
wash  away,  of  that  interesting  mountain,  with  its  beautiful  green 
slopes  and  peaks,  its  magnificent  panoramas,  its  pleasant  summer 
life,  its  picturesque  glades,  and  herds,  and — its  railway  to  the  top. 


VIII 


QUEEN    PARIS. 


WE  have  already  been  in  Paris,  but  we  saw  very  little  of  it, 
as  we  were  merely  passing  through  the  city  on  our  way 
to  the  south  of  France  ;  and  my  young  companions  should 
not  go  home  without  forming  an  acquaintance  with  a  city  which, 
on  account  of  its  importance  and  unrivalled  attractiveness,  may  be 
called  the  queen  city  of  the  world,  just  as  London,  with  its  wealth, 
its  size,  and  its  influence,  which  is  felt  all  over  our  globe,  is  the 
king  of  cities.  In  Rome,  and  in  other  cities  of  Italy,  we  have  seen 
what  Europe  used  to  be,  both  in  ancient  times  and  in  the  Middle 
Ages  ;  but  there  is  no  one  place  which  will  show  us  so  well  what 
Europe  is  to-day  as  Paris. 

It  is  an  immense  city,  being  surrounded  by  ramparts  twenty-one 
miles  long,  and  is  full  of  broad  and  handsome  streets,  magnificent 
buildings,  grand  open  spaces  with  fountains  and  statues,  great  pub- 
lic gardens  and  parks  free  to  everybody,  and  (what  is  more  attrac- 
tive to  some  people  than  anything  else)  it  has  miles  and  miles  of 
stores  and  shops,  which  are  filled  with  the  most  beautiful  and  inter- 
esting things  that  are  made  or  found  in  any  part  of  the  world.  All 
these  articles  are  arranged  and  displayed  so  artistically,  that  people 
buy  things  in  Paris  which  they  would  never  think  of  buying  any- 
where else,  simply  because  they  had  never  before  noticed  how  desir- 
able such  things  were.  But,  even  if  we  do  not  wish  to  spend  any 
money,  we  can  still  enjoy  the  rare  and  beautiful  objects  for  which 
Paris  is   famous  ;   they  are  nearly  all  in  the  shop  windows,  and  we 


QUEEN  PARIS.  I39 


can  walk  about  and  admire  them  for  nothing,  and  as  much  as  we 
please. 

In  many  respects  Paris  is  as  lively  as  Naples  ;  as  grand  as  Rome  ; 
as  beautiful,  but  in  a  different  way,  as  Venice  ;  almost  as  rich  in 
remains  of  the  Middle  Ages  as  Florence  ;  and  yet,  after  all,  it  will 
remind  you  of  none  of  those  cities. 

Before  we  visit  any  particular  place  in  Paris,  we  shall  start  out 
to  explore  the  city  as  a  whole  ;  although  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that 
we  shall  go  over  the  whole  of  the  city.  Those  of  us  who  choose 
will  walk,  and  that  is  the  best  way  to  see  Paris,  for  we  are  continu- 
ally meeting  with  something  thst  we  wish  to  stop  and  look  at ;  but 
such  as  do  not  wish  to  take  so  long  a  walk  may  ride  in  the  voitures, 
or  public  carriages,  which  abound  in  the  streets  of  Paris.  In  fine 
weather,  these  are  convenient  little  open  vehicles,  intended  to  carry 
two  persons,  though  more  can  be  sometimes  accommodated.  They 
can  be  hired  for  two  francs  (about  forty  cents)  an  hour,  with  the 
addition  of  a  small  sum  called  a  pour-boirc,  to  which  the  driver  is 
by  custom  entitled.  Nearly  everywhere  we  may  see  empty  z^^?V?/r<^^, 
their  drivers  looking  out  for  customers.  When  we  want  one,  we 
do  not  call  for  it,  nor  do  we  stand  on  the  curbstone  and  whistle,  as 
if  we  were  stopping  a  Fifth  Avenue  stage  :  if  no  driver  sees  us  so 
that  we  can  beckon  to  him,  we  follow  the  Parisian  custom,  and, 
going  to  the  edge  of  the  pavement,  give  a  strong  hiss  between  our 
closed  teeth.  Instantly  the  nearest  cocker,  or  driver,  pulls  up  his 
horse  and  looks  about  him  to  see  where  that  hiss  comes  from,  and 
when  he  sees  us,  he  comes  around  with  a  sweep  in  front  of  us. 

The  River  Seine  runs  through  Paris,  and  winds  and  doubles  so 
much  that  there  are  seven  miles  of  it  within  the  city  walls.  It  is 
crossed  by  twenty-seven  bridges,  and  from  one  of  these,  the  Pont 
de  la  Concorde,  we  shall  start  on  our  tour  through  Paris.  The 
upper  part   of  this  bridge  is  built  of  stones  taken  from  the  Bastile 


140 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


prison  after  its  destruction  by  the  enraged  people.  Thus  the  Pari- 
sians can  feel,  when  they  cross  this  bridge,  that  they  are  treading 
under  foot  a  portion  of  the  building  they  so  greatly  abhorred.     The 


TJL 


4«f 


y  fihuit     '"     ■•      -  ~,  *'""'"ni'"*>'irfiiinniinmili'iitfRir*in|iapi(T»iiniii"ii%,iimii iiuifBjil]L|l4U MWW*'''!li  1 


lit  lai  wffiran;ainin'giiun;iTBnin[ioQiii'iii'''"niniiwwtRaaOHi> 


PONT  AND  PLACE  DE  LA  CONCORDE. 


view  up  and  down  the  river  is  very  fine,  and  gives  us  a  good  idea 
of  the  city  we  are  about  to  explore.  As  we  cross  to  the  northern 
side  of  the  Seine,  on  which  lies  the  most  important  part  of  Paris, 
we  have  directly  in  front  of  us  the  great   Place  de  la  Concorde,  a 


QUEEN  PARIS.  141 


fine  open  square,  In  the  centre  of  which  rises  an  obelisk  brought 
from  Egypt.  Here  are  magnificent  fountains,  handsome  statuary 
on  tall  pedestals,  and  crowds  of  vehicles  and  foot-passengers  cross- 
ing it  in  every  direction,  making  a  picturesque  and  lively  scene. 
This  was  not  always  as  pleasant  a  place  as  it  is  now,  for  during  the 
great  French  Revolution  the  guillotine  stood  in  this  square,  and 
here  were  executed  two  thousand  eight  hundred  persons,  amono- 
whom  were  Queen  Marie  Antoinette  and  her  husband,  Louis 
XVI.  To  the  east  of  this  square  extends  for  a  long  distance  the 
beautiful  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  which  belonged  to  the  royal 
palace  of  that  name,  before  it  was  destroyed.  This  garden  is 
shaded  by  long  lines  of  trees,  and  adorned  with  fountains  and 
statues.  On  its  southern  side  is  an  elevated  walk,  or  terrace,  very 
broad  and  handsome,  and  about  half  a  mile  long.  In  the  reign 
of  the  Emperor  Napoleon  the  Third,  this  walk  was  appropriated  to 
the  daily  exercise  of  the  Prince  Imperial.  Here  the  young  fellow 
could  walk  up  and  down,  without  being  interfered  with  by  the 
people  below ;  and  underneath  was  a  covered  passage  in  which  he 
could  take  long  walks  in  rainy  weather. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  great  square  extends  a  broad  and  mag- 
nificent street,  a  mile  and  a  third  in  length,  called  the  Avenue  des 
Champs  Elysees.  On  each  side  for  nearly  half  a  mile  this  street 
is  bordered  by  pleasure-grounds,  beautifully  laid  out  and  planted 
with  trees;  and  for  the  rest  of  the  way  it  runs  between  two  double 
rows  of  trees  to  the  great  Arch  of  Triumph,  built  by  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  to  commemorate  his  victories.  This  arch  is  like  those 
erected  by  the  Roman  emperors,  and  is  covered  with  inscriptions 
and  sculptures  recording  the  glorious  achievements  of  the  great 
Napoleon.  When  Paris  was  taken  by  the  Prussians  in  the  war  of 
1 87 1,  the  German  army  marched  into  the  city  through  this  arch 
of  triumph,  and  if    they  wished  to  humiliate  the   French   people, 


142 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


they  could  not  have  thought  of  a  better  plan.  But  the  French 
people  whom  we  now  see  here  on  fine  afternoons  do  not  look  at 
all  humiliated  :  they  walk  about  under  the  trees ;  they  sit  upon 
the  thousands  of  prettily  painted  iron  chairs,  which  are  hired  out 
at  two  cents  apiece  for  a  whole  day;  they  drive  up  and  down  in 


.?':  -^-m.M- 


^•■'^^  /I IV" 


THE   AVENUE    DES   CHAMPS   ELYSEES. 
y/^^?  Arch  of   Triumph  in  the  distance. 

the  finest  carriages  that  money  can  buy  ;  and,  so  far  as  we  can 
discover  by  looking  at  them,  they  are  as  well  content,  and  have 
as  good  an  opinion  of  themselves,  as  any  people  in  the  world.  The 
pavement  of  the  street  and  that  of  the  great  square  is  as  smooth 
as  a  floor,  and  kept  very  neat  and  clean.  This  is  the  case,  indeed, 
in  nearly  all  the  principal  streets  of  Paris,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
drive  over  their  smooth  and  even   pavements.      But  after  a  rain  it 


QUEEN  PARIS.  143 


is  not  so  agreeable  to  walk  across  these  streets,  which  are  then 
covered  with  a  coating  of  very  sticky  white  mud. 

On  the  northern  side  of  the  square  is  a  handsome  street  of 
moderate  length,  called  the  Rue  Royale.  It  is  filled  with  fine 
shops,  and  is  very  animated  and  lively.  At  its  upper  end  stands 
the  beautiful  Church  of  the  Madeleine,  fashioned  like  a  Grecian 
temple.  We  go  up  this  street,  and  when  we  reach  the  broad  space 
about  the  Madeleine,  part  of  which  is  occupied  as  a  flower  market, 
with  long  lines  of  booths  crowded  with  many  varieties  of  blossoms 
and  plants,  we  find  ourselves  at  the  beginning  of  a  magnificent  line 
of  streets,  which  are  called  the  boulevards  of  Paris.  The  word 
boulevards  means  ramparts  or  bulwarks,  and  this  long  line  of 
streets  is  built  where  the  old  ramparts  of  Paris  used  to  stand. 
Of  late,  however,  the  word  has  been  applied  to  many  of  the  other 
broad  and  splendid  streets  for  which  Paris  is  famous.  This  crowded, 
lively,  and  interesting  thoroughfare  is  over  two  miles  long,  and 
is,  in  fact,  but  one  great  street,  although  it  is  divided  into  eleven 
sections,  called  the  Boulevard  de  la  Madeleine,  Boulevard  des 
Capucines,  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  etc.  These  boulevards  do  not 
extend  in  a  straight  line,  but  make  a  great  sweep  to  the  north,  and 
come  down  ao^ain  to  within  a  short  distance  of  the  river. 

On  each  side  of  this  wide  line  of  streets  are  splendid  shops  and 
stores,  cafes,  restaurants,  and  handsome  hotels ;  and  before  we  have 
gone  very  far  we  shall  see,  standing  back  in  an  open  space,  the 
Grand  Opera  House  of  Paris.  It  is  a  magnificent  building,  both 
inside  and  out ;  it  is  the  largest  theatre  in  the  world,  and  covers 
three  acres  of  around. 

But  althouorh  the  fine  buildinors  and  the  dazzlino-  show-windows 
full  of  beautiful  objects  will  continually  attract  our  attention,  they 
cannot  keep  our  eyes  from  the  wonderful  life  and  activity  of  the 
streets.     The  broad  sidewalks,  of  course,  are  crowded  with  people, 


144  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

though  no  more  than  we  often  meet  on  Broadway,  In  New  York; 
but  the  throng  is  pecuHar,  because  it  is  made  up  of  such  a  variety 
of  people,  who  seem  to  be  doing  so  many  different  things — ladies 
and  p-entlemen  dressed  in  the  latest  fashions  ;  workincr-men  in  blue 
blouses  ;  working-women,  always  without  any  head-covering  ;  boys 
and  men  with  wooden  shoes  ;  gentlemen,  and  often  ladies,  sitting 
at  little  tables  placed  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  cafes,  drinking 
coffee,  or  taking  some  other  refreshment  ;  soldier-policemen  march- 
ing up  and  down,  and  looking  very  inoffensive  ;  and  now  and  then  a 
priest  in  long  black  clothes  and  a  broad  felt  hat.  But  yet  among 
this  multitude  of  people  we  seldom  meet  any  one  who  is  dashing 
along  as  if  he  were  trying  to  catch  a  train  or  a  boat,  or  to  do  some- 
thing else  for  which  he  is  afraid  there  is  not  time  enough.  Here 
and  there  we  see,  standing  close  to  the  curbstone,  a  little  round 
wooden  house,  prettily  ornamented,  inside  of  which  a  woman  sits 
selling  newspapers,  which  are  displayed  at  the  open  window. 
These  houses  are  called  kiosks,  and  they  take  the  place  of  news- 
paper stands  in  our  country.  As  far  as  possible,  the  French  like 
to  make  their  useful  things  ornamental,  and  these  kiosks  add  very 
much  to  the  appearance  of  the  streets. 

Occasionally  we  come  to  the  opening  of  a  covered  arcade, 
extending  a  long  distance  back  from  the  street,  and  crowded  on 
both  sides  with  shops,  the  pavement  in  the  centre  being  occupied 
only  by  foot-passengers.  These  arcades  are  called  passages,  and 
are  among  the  most  interesting  features  of  Paris.  The  shops  here 
are  generally  small,  but  they  display  their  goods  in  a  very  enticing 
way.  Some  of  the  passages  contain  cafes  and  restaurants,  and  one 
of  them  is  almost  entirely  devoted  to  the  sale  of  toys  and  presents 
for  children. 

In  another  passage  we  shall  find  a  very  wonderful  wax-work 
show,  which,  although  it  is  not  so  large  as  the  famous  exhibition 


QUEEN  PARIS.  145 


of  Madame  Tussaud  in  London,  is,  in  many  respects,  much  more 
interesting.  There  are  figures  here  of  all  kinds,  many  of  cele- 
brated people  ;  but,  instead  of  being  set  up  stififiy  around  a  room, 
they  are  arranged  in  groups  in  separate  compartments,  and  in 
natural  positions,  as  if  they  were  saying  or  doing  something.  In 
the  centre  of  the  room  is  a  studio,  in  which  the  artist,  who  looks 
as  natural  as  life,  is  painting  a  picture  of  a  girl  standing  at  a  little 
distance  from  him,  while  behind  him  another  girl  is  peeping  over 
his  shoulder  to  see  how  he  is  getting  on  ;  and  she  looks  so  life- 
like that  we  can  almost  expect  to  hear  her  say  what  she  thinks 
about  it.  Near  by,  some  ladies  and  gentlemen  are  looking  over 
portfolios  of  drawings,  other  visitors  are  talking  together  and 
examining  the  pictures  on  the  walls,  while  a  servant  is  bringing  in 
wax  refreshments  which  look  quite  good  enough  to  eat  and  drink. 
This  scene  will  give  us  an  excellent  idea  of  life  in  the  studio  of 
a  French  artist.  There  are  all  kinds  of  scenes  represented  here, 
and  some,  especially  in  the  basement,  are  of  a  gloomy  and  sombre 
kind.  One  of  these  represents  a  body  of  policemen  bursting  into 
a  room  occupied  by  a  band  of  counterfeiters  engaged  in  making 
false  money.  The  dismay  of  the  counterfeiters,  disturbed  in  their 
work,  and  the  desperate  fight  that  has  already  begun,  are  very 
startling  and  real,  and  we  almost  feel  that  we  ought  to  move  out 
of  the  way. 

The  roadway  of  the  boulevards  is  filled  with  vehicles  of  every 
kind,  and  among  these  we  particularly  notice  the  great  omnibuses, 
much  larger  than  any  we  have,  and  each  drawn  by  three  powerful 
horses,  generally  white.  These  omnibuses  have  seats  on  top  as 
well  as  inside,  and  a  very  good  way  to  see  the  city  is  to  take  a  ride 
upon  one  of  those  upper  seats.  The  omnibuses  are  almost  always 
well  filled,  but  never  crowded  ;  no  one  being  taken  on  after  every 
seat  is  occupied,  and  a  fixed  number  are  standing  on  the  outside 


10 


146  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

platform.  They  stop  at  regular  stations,  not  very  far  apart,  and 
the  people  who  wait  here  for  them  are  provided  with  numbered 
tickets,  which  they  procure  from  the  agent  at  the  station,  so  that 
when  the  omnibus  comes,  as  many  as  can  be  accommodated  take 
their  seats  in  regular  order,  according  to  the  number  of  their 
tickets.  In  this  way,  there  is  no  crowding  and  pushing  to  get  in, 
and  those  who  are  left  behind  have  the  best  chance  at  the  next 
omnibus. 

In  other  parts  of  the  city  of  Paris,  there  are  street  railways, 
called  here  tramways,  which  are  managed  very  much  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  omnibuses.  These  vehicles  are  convenient  and 
cheap,  but  not  very  agreeable  ;  and  it  is  much  pleasanter  to  walk 
and  pay  nothing,  or  to  take  a  voiture  and  pay  thirty  cents  for  two 
people  for  a  drive  from  any  point  of  the  city  to  another. 

And  thus  we  go  on  along  the  boulevards,  passing  the  celebrated 
gateways,  Porte  St.  Martin  and  Porte  St.  Denis,  until  we  come  to 
the  great  open  space  once  occupied  by  the  Bastile,  in  which  now 
rises  a  tall,  sculptured  column  surmounted  by  a  figure  of  Liberty. 
Those  who  have  studied  and  remembered  modern  French  history 
will  take  a  great  interest  in  this  spot,  where  so  many  important 
events  occurred. 

Here  end  the  boulevards.  We  now  turn  toward  the  river,  and 
soon  reach  a  wide  street  called  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  one  side  of 
which  is  lined  with  shops  under  arcades,  which,  in  some  respects, 
are  more  attractive  than  any  we  have  yet  seen.  At  many  of  these 
photographs  are  sold,  and  their  windows  are  crowded  with  pictures. 
All  sorts  of  useful  and  cheap  things  are  to  be  found  here,  and  a 
walk  through  this  street  is  like  a  visit  to  a  museum.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  street  is  the  great  palace  of  the  Louvre,  which  extends 
for  some  distance,  and  after  that  we  come  to  the  garden  of  the 
Tuileries.      When  we  have  walked  through  this  magnificent  pleas- 


QUEEN  PARIS.  1 47 


ure-ground,  we  shall  reach  the  point  from  which  we  started  on 
our  tour. 

We  shall  take  many  other  walks  and  drives  through  the  streets 
of  Paris,  and,  wherever  we  go,  we  shall  find  in  each  an  interest  of 
a  different  sort.  On  the  southern  side  of  the  river  is  the  Latin 
Quarter,  where  there  are  some  celebrated  schools  and  academies, 
which,  for  centuries,  have  been  the  resort  of  students.  Here  we 
shall  find  narrow  streets,  crowded  footways,  and  shops  full  of  all 
sorts  of  antiquarian  articles,  and  odds  and  ends  of  every  kind, 
some  of  which  seem  to  have  no  other  value  than  that  they  are  old, 
while  other  things  are  very  valuable  and  often  very  cheap. 

Here,  too,  we  find  book-shops,  and  shops  where  prints  and 
engravings  are  sold,  and  all  with  their  windows  and  even  their 
outside  walls  crowded  with  the  best  things  they  have  to  offer. 
Along  the  river  front  are  rows  of  stalls  covered  with  second-hand 
books  at  very  low  prices,  and  those  of  us  who  are  collectors  of  old 
coins  can  find  them  here  by  the  peck  or  bushel.  In  this  quarter, 
also,  are  some  immense  dry-goods  and  variety  stores,  which  are 
w^orth  croinof  to  see.  One  of  them  Is  so  laree,  and  there  is  so  much 
to  see  in  it.  that,  at  three  o'clock  every  day,  a  guide  who  can  speak 
English  sets  out  to  conduct  visitors  through  the  establishment  and 
to  explain  its  various  details. 

In  nearly  every  quarter  of  Paris,  on  either  side  of  the  river, 
we  shall  find  shops,  shops,  shops;  people,  people,  people;  life, 
activity,  and  bustle  of  every  sort  Splendid  buildings  meet  our 
eyes  at  every  turn — churches,  private  residences,  places  of  business, 
and  public  edifices.  In  the  western  portion  of  the  city,  near  the 
Arc  de  Trioniphe,  there  are  few^er  shops,  these  streets  being  gen- 
erally occupied  by  fine  private  residences.  But  there  is  very  little 
monotony  in  Paris;  no  quarter  is  entirely  given  up  to  any  one 
thing.      We  cannot  walk  far  in  any  direction  without  soon  coming 


148  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

upon  some  object  of  interest.  The  parks,  palaces,  public  monu- 
ments, gardens,  grand  and  beautiful  churches,  fountains  of  various 
designs,  great  market-places,  squares,  and  buildings  of  historic 
interest  or  architectural  beauty,  are  sometimes  collected  in  groups; 
but,  as  a  rule,  they  are  scattered  all  over  the  city. 

When  we  have  satisfied  ourselves  with  what  Paris  itself  is, 
although  we  have  not  seen  anything  like  the  whole  of  it,  we  shall 
set  about  visiting  some  of  its  especial  attractions.  And  the  first 
place  we  shall  go  to  will  be  the  great  palace  of  the  Louvre.  This 
palace,  with  its  courts  and  buildings,  covers  some  twenty  acres. 
Here  have  lived  kings,  queens,  and  prince's;  but  now  the  palace 
has  been  made  into  a  museum  for  the  people,  and  its  grand  halls 
and  galleries  are  filled  with  paintings,  statuary,  and  other  works  of 
art,  ancient  and  modern,  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  It  would 
take  many,  many  visits  even  to  give  one  look  at  every  painting 
and  statue  in  the  Louvre;  but  if  we  have  not  much  time  to  spare, 
it  is  possible  to  see  the  best  things  without  walking  ourselves  to 
death  through  the  never-endinof  oralleries.  Some  of  the  finest 
paintings  of  Raphael,  Da  Vinci,  Murillo,  and  other  great  masters 
are  collected  in  one  room,  which  many  persons  would  think  well 
worth  coming  to  Paris  to  see,  if  they  saw  nothing  else.  The 
original  statue  of  the  noble  Venus  de  Milo  is  in  the  sculpture 
galleries ;  and  in  the  Egyptian  museum,  which  is  so  full  that  the 
history  of  Egypt  may  be  studied  here  almost  as  well  as  in  that  land 
itself,  we  shall  see  a  large  stone  sphinx  which  once  belonged  to 
that  king  of  Egypt  from  whom  the  children  of  Israel  fled,  and  the 
inscriptions  on  it  show  that  it  must  have  been  a  very  old  sphinx 
even  when  Pharaoh  had  it.  In  another  part  of  the  museum  are 
three  life-size  figures  in  stone,  which  are  portraits  of  persons  who 
lived  before  the  great  pyramids  were  built,  about  four  thousand 
years  before,  the  Christian  era. 


QUEEN  PARIS.  1 49 


Altogether,  the  collections  of  the  Louvre  are  among  the  finest 
and  most  extensive  in  the  world,  and  they  have  a  great  advantage 
over  the  galleries  of  the  Vatican  at  Rome :  in  the  Vatican  some  of 
the  galleries  are  open  on  one  day,  and  some  on  another ;  some 
requiring  one  kind  of  order  of  admission,  some  another,  and 
others  yet  another,  and  these  permits  are  sometimes  troublesome 
to  obtain.  But  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre  are  free  to  all,  rich  or 
poor,  who  may  choose  to  walk  into  them,  on  any  day  of  the  week 
except  Monday,  which  is  always  reserved  for  cleaning,  dusting,  and 
putting  things  in  order. 

In  the  old  palace  of  the  Luxembourg,  a  very  much  smaller 
building,  there  is  another  valuable  collection  of  paintings,  but  all 
by  French  artists;  and  the  Hotel  de  Cluny,  not  far  away,  is  a 
small  palace  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  is  one  of  the  quaintest, 
queerest,  pleasantest,  and  most  home-like  palaces  we  are  likely  to 
meet  with.  It  is  now  a  museum,  containing  over  ten  thousand 
interesting  objects,  mostly  relating  to  mediaeval  times.  Here, 
among  the  other  old-time  things,  we  can  see  the  very  carriages  and 
sleighs  in  which  the  great  people  of  the  seventeenth  century  used  to 
ride.  Those  of  us  who  suppose  that  we  have  now  left  the  Romans 
for  good  must  not  fail  to  visit  some  large  baths  adjoining  this 
palace,  built  about  the  end  of  the  third  century,  when  the  Romans 
had  possession  of  Gaul.  They  then  had  a  palace  on  this  spot,  and 
felt  bound,  as  the  ancient  Romans  always  did,  to  make  themselves 
comfortable  with  baths  and  everything  of  the  kind.  There  are 
other  museums  and  art  exhibitions  in  Paris,  but  those  we  have 
seen  are  the  most  important ;  and  it  is  very  pleasant  to  find  that 
they  are  greatly  frequented  by  the  poorer  classes  of  the  city,  who 
are  just  as  orderly  and  well-behaved  while  walking  about  these 
noble  palaces  as  if  they  belonged  to  the  highest  families  of  the 
land.     In  the  great  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  in  the  courts  and  gar- 


150  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

dens  attached  to  the  Louvre,  the  Luxembourg,  the  Palais  Royal, 
and  in  all  the  pleasure-grounds  of  the  city,  we  find  the  poor  people 
enjoying  themselves;  and  in  some  cases  they  seem  to  get  more 
good  out  of  these  places  than  do  the  rich.  The  old  women  sit 
knitting  in  the  shade  of  the  trees,  the  little  babies  with  their 
funny  caps  toddle  about  on  the  walks,  the  boys  and  girls  have 
their  games  in  the  great  open  spaces  around  the  fountains ;  and 
while  those  who  have  a  cent  or  two  to  spare  can  hire  little  chairs 
and  put  them  where  they  like,  there  are  always  benches  for  those 
who  have  no  pennies  to  spend.  The  convenience  of  resting  one's 
self  in  the  open  air  is  one  of  the  comforts  of  Paris.  In  many 
places  along  the  principal  streets  there  are  benches  on  the  side- 
walk, where  weary  passers-by  may  rest  shaded  by  the  trees.  In 
one  part  of  the  city,  chiefly  inhabited  by  the  poor  and  the  working 
people,  a  fine  park  has  been  laid  out  entirely  for  their  accommoda- 
tion. In  very  many  ways  the  French  Government  offers  opportu- 
nities to  the  poor  people  to  enjoy  themselves,  and  it  is  pleasant  to 
see  how  neat,  orderly,  and  quiet  these  people  are.  It  is  very  neces- 
sary that  they  should  be  kept  in  good  humor,  for  when  the  lower 
classes  of  Paris  become  thoroughly  dissatisfied,  they  are  apt  to  rise 
in  fierce  rebellion,  and  then  down  go  kings,  governments,  and  palaces. 
On  the  southern  side  of  the  river  rises  a  Qrreat  oilded  dome, 
which  glistens  in  the  sun,  and  may  be  seen  from  all  parts  of  Paris. 
This  dome  belongs  to  the  church  attached  to  the  Hotel  des  Inva- 
lides,  or  hospital  for  invalid  soldiers,  and  it  covers  the  tomb  of 
Napoleon  Bonaparte.  This  tomb,  which  is  very  magnificent  and 
imposing,  is  some  distance  below  the  floor  of  the  church,  and  we 
look  down  upon  it  over  a  circular  railing.  There  we  see  the  hand- 
some sarcophagus,  made  of  a  single  block  of  granite  weighing  sixty- 
seven  tons,  which  contains  the  remains  of  a  man  who  conquered 
the  greater  part  of  P^urope. 


QUEEN  PARIS. 


^51 


Paris  is  full  of  churches,  some  old  and  some  new,  and  many 

- — s''"!"  liVJI,,''!'" 


THE   SARCOPHAGUS 

grand     or 

b  eau  t  i  f u 1  ; 

but    no    one 

of  them  is  so 

interestincras 

the  famous 

cathedral    of 

Notre  Dame, 

which  standi 

on  an   island 

in  the  Seine, 

called    La 

Cite,    or   the 

Island  of  the 

City,  because 

here  the  orie- 

inal  Paris  was 

built.     This  great  church  is  not  so  attractive  in  appearance  as  some 


THE  TOMB  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  IN  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE 

INVALIDES. 


152  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

that  we  have  seen  elsewhere,  but  it  is  connected  with  so  many 
events  in  the  history  of  France,  that,  as  we  wander  about  under 
its  vauhed  arches  and  through  its  pillared  aisles,  and  as  we  look 
upon  the  strange  and  sometimes  startling  sculptures  in  the  chapels, 
the  curious  wood-carvings  about  the  choir,  the  immense  circular 
window  of  gorgeously  stained  glass  in  the  transept,  which  sends  its 
brightness  into  the  solemn  duskiness  of  the  church,  we  shall  do  so 
with  a  degree  of  interest  increased  by  what  we  have  read  about 
this  old  and  famous  building. 

Another  church  which  we  shall  wish  to  see  is  Sainte-Chapelle, 
or  Holy  Chapel,  built  in  1245  by  King  Louis  IX.,  who  was  known 
as  St.  Louis.  It  stands  on  the  same  island  as  Notre  Dame,  and 
near  the  Palace  of  Justice,  a  great  pile  of  buildings  containing  the 
law  courts.  This  church,  or  chapel,  is  small,  but  it  is  perhaps  the 
most  beautiful  of  the  kind  in  the  world.  The  walls  of  the  upper 
story,  in  which  the  royal  court  used  to  worship,  are  almost  entirely 
of  exquisitely  colored  glass.  These  walls  are  formed  of  windows 
nearly  fifty  feet  high,  and  the  light  shining  through  every  side  of 
this  gorgeous  temple  of  stained  glass  produces  a  remarkable  and 
beautiful  effect. 

The  present  Palace  of  Justice  is  for  the  most  part  a  modern 
building,  but  portions  of  the  old  edifice  of  the  same  name,  which 
used  to  stand  upon  this  spot,  still  remain.  In  one  of  these  we  shall 
visit  the  old  Conciergerie,  which  is  famous  as  a  French  state  prison. 
Here  we  shall  see  the  little  room  with  a  brick  floor,  in  which  the 
beautiful  Marie  Antoinette,  the  wife  of  Louis  XVI,,  was  impris- 
oned for  two  months  before  her  execution.  Here  is  the  very 
armchair  in  which  she  sat.  Thus  we  brinof  to  mind  the  events  of 
the  great  French  Revolution,  and  can  easily  recall  the  sorrowful 
things  which  took  place  in  the  halls  and  rooms  of  that  gloomy 
Conciergerie. 


QUEEN  PARIS.  1 53 


Another  celebrated  Parisian  church  is  the  Pantheon,  an  im- 
mense edifice.  This  building  was  intended  as  a  burial-place  for 
illustrious  men  of  France. 

We  have  all  heard  of  the  famous  cemetery  of  Pere-Lachaise.  It 
lies  within  the  city,  and  will  be  interesting  to  us,  not  only  because 
of  its  great  size  and  beauty,  and  because  it  contains  the  graves  of 
so  many  persons  famous  in  art,  science,  literature,  and  war,  but 
because  it  is  so  different  from  any  graveyard  to  which  we  are 
accustomed.  It  has  more  than  twenty  thousand  monuments,  and 
many  of  these  are  like  little  houses,  standing  side  by  side  as  if 
they  were  dwellings  on  a  street.  Each  vault  generally  belongs  to 
a  family,  and  the  little  buildings  are  almost  always  decorated  with 
a  profusion  of  flowers  and  wreaths,  and  often  with  pictures  and 
hanging  lamps.  Here,  as  in  other  French  cemeteries,  it  is  not 
uncommon  to  place  a  framed  photograph  of  a  deceased  person 
over  his  grave. 

There  are  small  steamboats  which  run  up  and  down  the  Seine 
like  omnibuses,  and  the  charge  to  passengers  is  about  two  cents 
apiece.  These  little  boats  are  called  by  the  Parisians  inoitches,  or 
flies  ;  and  as  they  are  often  very  convenient  for  city  trips,  we  shall 
take  one  of  them  and  go  to  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  a  very  extensive 
and  famous  zoological  and  botanical  garden.  Here  we  may  ramble 
for  hours,  and  see  animals  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  in  cages  and 
houses,  and  in  little  yards  where  they  can  enjoy  the  open  air. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  city,  outside  the  walls,  is  the  Jardin 
d'Acclimatation,  that  contains  a  o;reat  number  of  foreicrn  animals 
and  plants,  many  of  which  have  been  naturalized  so  as  to  feel  at 
home  in  the  climate  of  France.  In  one  house  here  we  may  see  all 
kinds  of  silk-worms,  with  the  plants  they  feed  upon  growing  near 
by.  In  another  part  of  the  grounds  we  shall  find  trained  zebras 
and  ostriches  harnessed  to  little  carriages,  in  which  children   may 


154  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

take  a  ride  ;  and  we  shall  see  some  very  gentle  elephants  and 
camels,  on  which  we  may  mount  and  get  an  idea  of  how  people 
travel  in  the  East. 

The  Bois  de  Boulogne,  adjoining  this  garden,  is  a  very  large 
park,  where  we  can  see  the  fashionable  people  of  Paris  in  their 
carriaofes  on  fine  afternoons. 

There  are  certain  iroods  sold  in  Paris  known  under  the  name 
of  "  articles  de  Paris.''  These  consist  of  all  sorts  of  pretty  things, 
generally  very  tasteful  but  not  very  expensive,  among  which  are 
jewelry  and  trinkets  of  many  kinds,  and  a  great  variety  of  useful 
and  ornamental  little  objects  made  in  the  most  attractive  fashion. 
These  goods,  of  course,  can  be  bought  in  other  cities,  but  Paris 
has  made  a  specialty  of  their  manufacture,  and  many  shops  are 
entirely  given  up  to  their  sale.  A  great  number  of  such  shops  is 
to  be  found  in  the  Palais  Royal.  This  is  a  vast  palace  built  for 
Cardinal  Richelieu,  in  1625,  and  is  in  the  form  of  a  hollov/  square, 
surrounding  the  garden  of  the  Palais  Royal.  Around  the  four 
sides  of  the  palace,  under  long  colonnades  and  facing  the  garden, 
are  rows  of  shops,  their  windows  filled  with  all  sorts  of  sparkling 
and  beautiful  things  in  gold,  silver,  precious  stones,  bronze,  brass, 
and  every  other  material  that  pretty  things  can  be  made  of.  By 
night  or  by  day  the  colonnades  of  the  Palais  Royal  are  very  attrac- 
tive places,  and  as  all  visitors  go  to  them,  so  do  we.  Even  if  we 
do  not  buy  anything,  we  shall  be  interested  in  the  endless  display 
in  the  windows. 

Another  place  we  shall  wish  to  visit  is  the  famous  manufactory 
of  Gobelin  tapestry.  In  this  factory,  which  belongs  to  the  Gov- 
ernment, are  produced  large  and  beautiful  woven  pictures,  and  the 
great  merit  of  the  work  is  that  it  is  done  entirely  by  hand,  no 
m.achinery  being  used.  The  operation  is  very  slow,  each  work- 
man putting  one  thread  at  a  time  in  its  place,  and  faithfully  copy- 


QUEEN  PARIS.  155 


ing  a  painting  in  oil  or  water-colors,  which  stands  near  him,  as  a 
model. 

If  in  a  day  he  covers  a  space  as  large  as  his  hand,  he  considers 
that  he  has  done  a  very  good  day's  work.  These  tapestries,  which 
are  generally  very  large  and  expensive,  are  used  as  wall-hangings 
in  palaces  and  public  buildings.  It  will  be  an  especial  delight,  I 
think,  to  the  girls  in  our  company,  to  watch  this  beautiful  work 
slowly  growing  under  the  fingers  of  the  skilful  artisans. 

Outside  of  Paris,  but  not  far  away,  there  are  some  famous 
places  which  we  must  see.  First  among  these  are  the  palace  and 
grounds  of  Versailles,  a  magnificent  palace  built  by  Louis  XIV. 
for  a  summer  residence.  This  gentleman,  who  liked  to  be  called 
Lc  Gi'-ajid  Monarque,  had  so  high  an  idea  of  the  sort  of  country 
place  he  wanted,  that  he  spent  upon  this  palace  and  its  grounds 
the  sum  of  two  hundred  millions  of  dollars.  The  whole  place  is 
now  open  to  the  public,  and  the  grand  and  magnificent  apartments 
and  halls,  some  of  them  nearly  four  hundred  feet  long,  are  filled 
with  paintings  and  statuary,  so  that  the  palace  is  now  a  great  art- 
gallery.  The  park  is  splendidly  laid  out,  having  in  it  a  wide  canal 
nearly  a  mile  long.  The  fountains  here  are  considered  the  finest 
in  the  world,  and  when  they  play,  which  is  not  very  often,  thou- 
sands upon  thousands  of  people  come  out  from  Paris  to  see  them. 
In  the  grounds  are  two  small  palaces,  once  inhabited  by  PVench 
queens ;  and  one  of  these,  called  the  little  Trianon,  was  the  beau- 
tiful home  of  Marie  Antoinette,  whose  last  home  on  earth  was 
the  brick-paved  room  of  the  Conciergerie.  The  private  garden 
attached  to  this  little  palace,  which  is  more  like  a  park  than  a 
garden,  possesses  much  rural  beauty. 

Here,  on  the  margin  of  a  lake,  we  may  see  the  little  thatched 
cottages  which  Marie  Antoinette  had  built,  that  she  and  the  ladies 
of  her  court  might  play  at  being  milkmaids.     These  cottages  stand 


156  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

just  as  they  did  when  those  noble  ladies  dressed  themselves  up  like 
peasant  girls,  and  milked  cows,  which,  I  have  no  doubt,  were  very 
gentle  animals,  while  the  royal  milkmaids  probably  tried  to  make 
themselves  believe  that  they  could  have  the  happiness  of  real  milk- 
maids as  well  as  that  which  belonged  to  their  own  lives  of  luxury 
and  state. 

At  Fontainebleau  is  another  royal  palace,  to  which  is  attached 
a  magnificent  forest  of  forty-two  thousand  acres.  The  kings  of 
France  did  not  like  to  feel  cramped  in  their  houses  or  grounds, 
and  in  this  beautiful  forest,  which  measures  fifty  miles  around, 
there  are  twelve  thousand  four  hundred  miles  of  roads  and  foot- 
paths. 

Not  far  from  Paris  is  the  old  palace  of  St.  Germain,  in  which 
many  kings  have  been  born,  lived,  and  died,  and  to  which  there  is 
a  forest  of  nine  thousand  acres  attached.  There  is  also  St.  Cloud, 
with  a  ruined  palace  and  a  lovely  park,  with  statues,  fountains,  and 
charming  walks  ;  and,  near  by,  the  village  of  Sevres,  where  the 
famous  porcelain  of  that  name  is  made.  Also  within  easy  distance 
of  the  city  is  the  old  cathedral  of  St.  Denis,  where,  for  over  a  thou- 
sand years,  the  kings  of  France  were  buried.  Here,  in  a  crypt  or 
burial-place  under  the  church,  we  may  look  through  a  little  barred 
window  into  a  gloomy  vault,  and  see,  standing  quite  near  us,  the 
metal  coffin  which  contains  the  bones  of  Marie  Antoinette,  whose 
palaces,  pleasure-grounds,  prison-house,  and  place  of  execution  we 
have  already  seen. 

The  history  of  France  shows  us  that  Paris  has  been  as  rich  in 
historical  events  as  it  is  now  in  bright,  attractive  shops;  but,  as 
a  rule,  it  is  much  more  pleasant  to  see  the  latter  than  to  remember 
the  former.  In  our  walks  through  Paris,  we  shall  not  think  too 
much  of  the  dreadful  riots  and  combats  that  have  taken  place  in 
her  streets,  the  blood  that  has  been  shed  even  in  her  churches,  and 


QUEEN  PARIS.  1 57 


the  executions  and  murders  that  have  been  witnessed  in  her  beau- 
tiful open  squares.  Instead  of  this,  we  shall  give  ourselves  up  to 
the  enjoyment  of  the  queen  of  cities  as  she  now  is,  thinking  only 
of  the  unrivalled  pleasures  she  offers  to  visitors,  and  of  the  kind- 
ness and  politeness  which  we  almost  always  meet  with  from  her 
citizens. 


IX. 


KING    LONDU-X, 


IN  the  visit  which  we  are  about  to  make  to  the  largest  and  rich- 
est civiHzed  city  in  the  world,  I  will  mention  at  the   outset  that 

if  any  one  were  to  undertake  to  walk,  one  way  only,  through  all 
the  streets  of  London,  he  would  be  obliged  to  go  a  distance  of 
two  thousand  six  hundred  miles,  or  as  far  as  it  is  across  the  Ameri- 
can continent  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco,  This  will  orive 
an  idea  of  what  would  have  to  be  done  in  order  to  see  even  the 
greater  part  of  London. 

In  our  approach  to  this  city,  as  well  as  in  our  rambles  through 
its  streets,  we  shall  not  be  struck  so  much  by  its  splendid  and 
imposing  appearance  as  by  its  immensity.  Go  where  we  may, 
there  seems  to  be  no  end  to  the  town.  It  is  fourteen  miles  one 
way,  and  eight  miles  the  other,  and  contains  a  population  of  nearly 
four  million  people,  which  is  greater  than  that  of  Switzerland 
or  of  the  kino-doms  of  Denmark  and  Greece  combined.  We  are 
told  on  good  authority  that  there  are  more  Scotchmen  in  London 
than  in  Edinburgh,  more  Irishmen  than  in  Dublin,  and  more  Jews 
than  in  Palestine,  with  foreigners  from  all  parts  of  the  world, 
including  a  great  number  of  Americans.  Yet  there  are  so  many 
Englishmen  in  London,  that  one  is  not  likely  to  notice  the  presence 
of  the  people  of  other  nations. 

This  vast  body  of  citizens,  some  so  rich  that  they  never  can 
count  their  money,  and  some  so  poor  that  they  never  have  any  to 
count,  eat  every  year  four  hundred  thousand  oxen,  one  and  a  half 


KING   LONDON.  1 59 


million  sheep,  eight  million  chickens  and  game  birds,  not  to  speak 
of  calves,  hogs,  and  different  kinds  of  fish.  They  consume  five 
hundred  million  oysters,  which,  although  it  seems  like  a  large 
number,  would  give  only,  if  equally  divided  among  all  the  people, 
one  oyster  every  third  day  to  each  person.  There  are  three  hun- 
dred thousand  servants  in  London,  enough  people  to  make  a  large 
city  ;  but,  as  this  gives  but  one  servant  to  each  dozen  citizens, 
it  is  quite  evident  that  a  great  many  of  the  people  must  wait  on 
themselves.  Things  are  very  unequally  divided  in  London  ;  and 
I  have  no  doubt  that  instead  of  there  being  one  servant  to  twelve 
persons,  some  of  the  rich  lords  and  ladies  have  twelve  servants 
apiece. 

There  are  many  other  things  of  this  kind  which  I  might  tell 
you,  and  which  would  help  to  give  you  an  idea  of  the  vastness  and 
wealth  of  this  great  centre  of  the  world's  commerce,  into  whose 
port  twenty  thousand  vessels  enter  annually ;  while  land  is  so 
valuable  that  a  siuijle  acre  of  it  has  been  sold  for  four  and  a  half 
million  dollars.  But  we  must  now  proceed  to  see  London  for 
ourselves  ;  and  we  shall  begin  at  the  great  church  of  St.  Paul's, 
which  is  in  one  of  the  most  busy  and  crowded  portions  of  the  city. 

I  must  say  here  that  a  particular  portion  of  London  is  known 
as  "  The  City."  Although  it  is  comparatively  but  a  small  part  of 
the  metropolis,  it  is  the  centre  of  business,  and  contains  the  great 
mercantile  houses,  the  Bank  of  England,  the  Exchange,  the  Gen- 
eral Post-Office,  the  courts  of  justice,  the  great  newspaper  offices, 
and  the  famous  London  Docks.  "The  City"  is  presided  over  by 
the  Lord  Mayor,  that  personage  of  whom  you  have  read  so  much, 
and  who  has  nothincr  at  all  to  do  with  the  rest  of  London. 

In  the  midst  of  this  busy,  noisy,  and  crowded  section  stands 
St.  Paul's,  with  its  dome  high  above  everything.  When  it  was 
new  and  its  marble  was  white,  this  church  must  have  been  very 


i6o 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


handsome,  viewed  from  the  outside  ;  but  now  it  is  a  dingy  gray, 
and  in  some  places  quite  black,  on  account  of  the  coal-smoke 
which  is  continually  settling  down  upon  London  and  making  it  the 
grimiest,  dingiest  city  in  the  world.  It  is  everywhere  the  same. 
The  splendid  white  marble  buildings  are  now  gray  and  black;  the 
bricks,  of  which  most  of  the  houses  are  built,  are  generally  the  color 


ST.     I'AULS    CATIIKDKAI,,    SEEN    OVER    THE    ROOFS    OF    NEIGHBORING    HOUSES. 


of  an  old  ham  ;  and  if  you  see  a  bright  or  fresh-looking  house  in 
London,  you  may  be  sure  that  it  has  very  recently  been  painted 
or  built.  If  you  want  to  know  the  reason  of  this,  we  will  go  up 
to  the  top  of  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's,  from  which  we  can  look  down 
upon  a  great  part  of  London. 

As  we  gaze  upon  the  vast  city  stretching  out  far  on  every  side, 
one  of  the  first  thinors  which  will  attract  our  attention  will  be  the 


KING  LONDON.  i6i 


amazing  number  of  chimney-pots  which  stand  up  from  the  roof  of 
every  building,  large  and  small.  There  seem  to  be  millions  of 
them,  some  earthenware  and  some  iron,  some  of  one  shape  and 
some  of  another,  some  twisted  and  some  straight  ;  but  three  or 
four,  and  often  more,  on  every  chimney.  From  all  these  chimney- 
pots during  cold  or  cool  weather,  and  from  a  great  many  of  them 
during  the  whole  of  the  year,  rise  up  little  curls  or  big  curls  of  the 
dark,  heavy  smoke  which  comes  from  the  soft  coal  generally  burned 
in  London.  This  smoke,  which  is  often  filled  with  little  specks  of 
soot,  rises  a  short  distance  into  the  air,  and  then  gently  settles 
down  to  blacken  and  begrime  the  city. 

At  certain  seasons,  when  the  air  is  heavy  with  moisture,  this 
smoke  helps  to  form  a  fog  quite  different  from  those  to  which 
people  in  other  cities  are  accustomed.  It  is  so  thick  and  dark 
that  the  day  seems  like  night.  People  cannot  find  their  way  in 
the  streets  ;  vehicles  must  stand  still  or  run  into  one  another  ;  the 
street  lamps  shed  a  sickly  light  for  only  a  yard  or  two  around  ; 
shutters  are  closed  and  houses  are  lighted  at  midday  as  if  it  were 
midnight;  and  until  the  fog  rises,  the  outdoor  life  of  London 
comes  very  nearly  to  a  full  stop.  To  see  one  of  these  fogs  may 
do  very  well  for  a  novelty,  but  we  shall  try  not  to  be  in  London  at 
the  season  when  they  generally  occur,  which  is  late  autumn  and 
winter. 

St.  Paul's  is  the  largest  Protestant  church  in  the  world  ;  and 
when  we  get  inside  of  it  and  stand  under  the  great  dome,  we  shall 
be  apt  to  think  that  it  is  a  bare-looking  place,  and  rather  too  big. 
It  is  "adorned  with  a  great  many  fine  groups  of  statuary  in  memory 
of  English  soldiers  and  heroes,  but  these  do  not  help  much  to 
brighten  up  its  cold  and  dull  interior.  St.  Peter's  at  Rome  is  twice 
as  large,  but  is  a  far  more  cheerful  church. 

It  seems  rather  odd  to  come  to  a  churchyard  to  buy  things,  but 


1 62  PERSOXALLV  CONDUCTED. 

St.  Paul's  Churchyard  is  one  of  the  great  resorts  of  London  shop- 
pers. It  is  not  now  really  a  churchyard,  but  is  a  street  which  runs 
entirely  around  the  great  church,  and  is  filled  with  shops.  Here 
we  can  stroll  among  the  crowds  of  people  on  the  sidewalk,  and  on 
one  side  look  upon  windows  filled  with  everything  that  any  one 
would  want  to  buy,  and  on  the  other  side  gaze  up  at  the  mag- 
nificent cathedral  which  is  the  pride  of   London. 

It  will  interest  us  very  much  in  going  about  London  to  meet 
with  many  streets  and  places  which,  although  we  now  see  them  for 
the  first  time,  seem  to  us  like  old  acquaintances.  From  one  corner 
of  St.  Paul's  Churchyard  is  the  lively  street  called  Cheapside,  from 
which  John  Gilpin  started  on  his  famous  ride. 

From  the  front  of  St.  Paul's  runs  Ludgate  Hill,  a  street  which 
is  just  as  busy  as  it  can  be,  and  crowded  with  omnibuses,  cabs, 
wagons,  and  people.  A  little  farther  on,  this  same  street  becomes 
Fleet  Street,  where  we  find  many  book-shops  and  printing  estab- 
lishments, which  always  make  us  think  of  Dr.  Johnson,  because  he 
was  so  fond  of  this  street.  Near  it  he  wrote  his  great  dictionary, 
and  lived  and  died.  At  the  end  of  Fleet  Street  used  to  stand 
Temple  Bar,  which  was  an  archway  across  the  street,  ornamented 
with  iron  spikes,  on  which  the  heads  of  executed  traitors  used  to 
be  stuck.  This  celebrated  gateway  was  one  of  the  entrances  to  the 
cit\',  and  the  kin^:  of  Eno-land  had  no  riorht  to  o-o  througrh  it  unless 
he  had  permission  of  the  Lord  Mayor.  Even  now.  Queen  Victoria 
does  not  pass  the  monument  which  stands  in  the  place  of  the  old 
Temple  Bar,  without  the  formal  consent  of  the  Lord  Mayor. 

Near  this  place  rises  the  magnificent  building  recently  erected 
for  the  London  Law  Courts.  It  covers  a  whole  block,  and,  with 
its  towers  and  turrets  and  peaked  roofs,  resembles  a  vast  Norman 
castle. 

We  now  find  ourselves  in  that  street,  well  known  to  readers  of 


KING  LONDON.  163 


English  books,  called  the  Strand,  where  the  shops,  the  people,  and 
the  omnibuses  seem  to  increase  in  number.  Here  we  shall  see 
in  the  windows  all  manner  of  useful  things ;  and,  indeed,  in  our 
rambles  through  London  we  shall  discover  that,  although  there 
are  many  shop-windows  filled  with  ornamental  objects,  the.  com- 
modities offered  for  sale  are  generally  things  of  real  use, — to  wear, 
to  travel  with,  to  eat,  to  read,  or  to  make  of  some  manner  of  use. 
In  Paris  there  are  many  more  beautiful  objects,  but  they  do  not 
so  much  seem  to  be  the  things  we  really  need.  The  Strand  ends 
at  Charing  Cross,  where  we  may  see  a  model  of  an  old-time  cross 
which  used  to  stand  here.  Charinsf  Cross  is  one  of  the  ereat 
centres  of  London  life.  It  seems  as  if  most  of  the  citizens  make 
it  their  business  to  come  here  at  least  once  a  day.  Several  lines 
of  omnibuses  start  from  this  point  ;  here  are  a  great  railway  sta- 
tion and  an  immense  hotel  ;  little  streets  and  big  streets  run  off  in 
every  direction  ;  cabs,  men,  boys,  women,  and  wagons  do  the  same 
thing  ;  and  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  cross  from  one  side  to 
the  other,  were  it  not  for  a  little  curbed  space  like  an  island  in  the 
middle  of  the  street,  on  which  we  can  rest  when  we  get  half  way 
over,  and  wait  for  a  chance  to  cross  the  other  half  of  the  street. 
Nearly  all  the  crowded  streets  of  London,  as  well  as  those  of  Paris, 
are  provided  with  these  little  central  refuges  for  foot-passengers. 
All  the  vehicles  going  up  the  street  pass  on  one  side  of  these 
islands,  while  those  going  down  pass  on  the  other  ;  so  that  we 
only  have  to  look  in  one  direction  for  horses'  heads  when  we  are 
actually  in  the  street.  But  we  must  remem.ber  that  in  England 
the  law  obliges  vehicles  to  keep  to  the  left,  while  in  France  they 
turn  to  the  right,  as  with  us. 

Close  to  Charing  Cross  is  Trafalgar  Square,  a  fine  open  space 
with  a  fountain,  and  a  column  to  Lord  Nelson,  and  facing  this 
square  we  see  the  pillars  and  the  portico  of  the  National  Gallery, 


164  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

The  admirable  collection  of  paintings  in  this  building  is  not  nearly 
so  large  as  those  we  have  seen  in  Paris  and  Italy,  but  it  will 
greatly  interest  us  in  two  ways.  It  will  not  only  be  refreshing  to 
see  pictures  by  English  painters  on  English  subjects,  as  well  as 
many  very  fine  paintings  by  Continental  masters,  but  we  shall  be 
surprised,  and  very  much  pleased,  continually  to  meet  with  the 
originals  of  engravings  on  steel  and  wood  with  which  we  have 
been  familiar  all  our  lives.  Here  are  Landseer's  doLTs  and  horses, 
the  children  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  and  of  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence, 
Wilkie's  village  scenes,  and  many  other  paintings  which  we  shall 
recognize  the  moment  our  eyes  fall  upon  them. 

Returning  across  Trafalgar  Square,  we  continue  our  walk,  and 
find  that  the  Strand  is  now  changed  into  a  broad  street,  called 
Whitehall,  in  which  are  situated  many  of  the  governmental  and 
public  offices,  such  as  the  Treasury,  the  War  Office,  and  so  on. 
One  of  these  buildings  belongs  to  the  Horse  Guards,  a  very  fine 
body  of  English  cavalry,  and  here  we  shall  see  something  interest- 
ing. On  each  side  of  a  broad  gateway  is  a  little  house,  or  shed, 
with  its  front  entirely  open  to  the  sidewalk  ;  and  in  each  of  these 
houses  is  a  soldier  on  horseback.  This  soldier  is  dressed  in  a 
splendid  scarlet  coat,  a  steel  helmet  with  a  long  plume,  and  high- 
topped  boots.  The  horse  is  coal-black,  which  is  the  regulation 
color  of  the  Horse  Guards'  horses.  The  peculiarity  of  this  pair  of 
men  and  horses  is  that,  while  they  are  stationed  here  on  guard, 
they  never  move.  The  man  sits  as  if  he  were  carved  in  stone,  and 
although  I  have  no  doubt  h(;  winks,  he  does  it  so  that  nobody 
notices  it ;  while  the  horse  is  almost  as  motionless  as  one  of  the 
bronze  horses  of  St.  Mark's  in  Venice.  He  neither  switches  his 
tail,  nods  his  head,  nor  stamps  his  feet.  He  has  been  trained  to 
do  nothing  but  think  while  he  stands  in  tliis  little  house,  and  that 
is  all  he  does.      Nearly  all  visitors  to    London  come  to  see  these 


WESTMINSTER    ABBEY. 


KING  LONDON.  167 


two  statue-like  men  and  horses  at  the  entrance  to  the  Horse 
Guards.  At  certain  hours  these  soldiers  are  relieved  and  their 
places  supplied  by  others,  and  there  is  generally  a  little  crowd 
assembled  to  witness  this  manoeuvre.  A  tall  sergeant  comes  out 
into  the  street,  turns  around,  and  faces  the  two  horsemen.  At  his 
word  of  command,  each  soldier  rides  out  of  his  little  house,  then 
they  turn  around  squarely  and  ride  toward  each  other,  then  they 
turn  again,  and  side  by  side  ride  through  the  gate  into  the  court- 
yard. It  now  appears  as  if  they  have  works  inside  of  them  and 
are  moved  by  machinery,  so  exactly  do  they  keep  time  with  each 
other  in  every  motion.  At  the  word  of  command  they  stop,  each 
man  lifts  up  his  right  leg,  throws  it  over  the  back  of  his  horse,  and 
drops  it  to  the  ground  so  that  the  two  boots  tap  the  pavement  at 
the  same  instant.  Then  each  left  foot  is  drawn  from  the  stirrup, 
and  each  man  stands  up  and  leads  away  his  horse,  while  two  other 
guardsmen  come  out  to  take  their  places  in  the  little  houses,  and 
sit  motionless  for  a  stated  time. 

Continuing  on  our  course,  we  find  that  Whitehall  is  changed  to 
Parliament  Street  and  leads  us  to  Westminster  Abbey  and  the 
splendid  Houses  of  Parliament,  on  the  river-bank.  We  all  have 
heard  so  much  of  Westminster  Abbey,  that  grand  old  burial-place 
of  Englishmen  of  fame,  that  it  will  scarcely  strike  us  as  entirely 
novel  ;  but  I  doubt  if  any  of  us  have  formed  an  idea  of  the  lofty 
beauty  of  its  pillars  and  arched  ceiling,  and  the  extent  and  number 
of  its  recesses  and  chapels  crowded  with  monuments  and  relics  of 
the  past. 

Of  course,  we  shall  go  first  to  the  Poets'  Corner,  where  so  many 
literary  men  lie  buried,  and  where  there  are  so  many  monuments 
to  those  who  are  buried  elsewhere.  Amone  these  we  shall  be 
glad  to  see  the  bust  of  our  own  Longfellow,  the  only  person  not 
an  Englishman  who  has  a  monument  here.     We  shall  spend  hours 


l68  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

in  Westminster  Abbey  and  in  its  chapels,  where  there  are  so  many 
interesting  memorials  and  tombs  of  old-time  kings  and  queens, 
knights  and  crusaders  ;  and  then,  having  made  up  our  minds  that 
on  the  very  next  Sunday  we  will  come  here  to  church,  we  shall  go 
out  of  a  side  door  into  a  queer  little  street,  where,  in  a  secluded 
corner,  are  some  quaint  little  houses  with  such  names  as  "  Mr.  John 
This,"  and  "Mr.  Thomas  That,"  and  "Mr.  George  The-other-thing" 
on  their  front  gates  ;  and,  after  walking  a  short  distance,  we  shall 
find  ourselves  at  the  entrance  to  the  Houses  of  Parliament. 

It  is  only  on  Saturdays  that  these  great  buildings  can  be  visited, 
and  then  we  must  have  permits  from  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  whose 
office  is  around  a  corner  of  the  edifice.  We  can  wander  as  we 
please  through  all  the  public  parts  of  the  building,  for  Parliament 
is  never  in  session  on  Saturdays,  and  we  shall  see  splendid  and 
handsome  halls  and  corridors,  including  the  Queen's  robing-room, 
with  her  throne  on  one  side  of  it,  althouo^h  she  seldom  or  never 
sits  there,  and  the  magnificent  House  of  Lords,  with  three  thrones 
at  one  end  of  it,  which  were  originally  intended  for  the  Queen,  her 
husband  Prince  Albert,  and  her  oldest  son  the  Prince  of  Wales. 
There  are  many  more  halls  and  apartments,  all  magnificently 
fitted  up  and  adorned  with  rich  carvings  and  paintings,  making 
this  a  wonderfully  grand  and  imposing  building.  W^e  shall  be 
surprised,  however,  when  we  see  the  room  intended  for  the  House 
of  Commons,  the  real  governing  power  of  England.  In  these 
immense  Houses  of  Parliament,  covering  eight  acres,  and  contain- 
ing eleven  hundred  rooms  and  apartments,  there  is  for  the  House 
of  Commons  only  a  room  so  small,  that,  when  all  the  members  are 
present,  there  is  not  accommodation  for  them  on  the  main  floor, 
and  many  of-  them  have  to  stow  themselves  away  in  the  gallery 
or  wherever  they  can  find  room.  Adjoining  this  magnificent 
building,  and    now   really  a   part   of   it.   Is  the  famous    old  West- 


KING  LONDON. 


169 


minster  Hall,  a  vast  chamber  capable  of  holding  a  dozen  Houses 
of  Commons.  This  great  hall  was  built  in  its  present  form  by 
Richard  H.      Here  the  English  Parliament  used  to  meet,  and  here 


^^Isii- 


THE    HOUSES    OF    PARLIAMENT. 


State  trials  were  held.  Among  the  persons  condemned  to  death 
in  this  room  were  Charles  I.,  William  Wallace  the  Scotch  hero, 
and  Guy  Fawkes.  The  lofty  roof,  formed  of  dark  oaken  beams, 
is  very  peculiar,  and  in  construction  is  one  of  the  finest  roofs  of 
its  kind  in  the  world. 


I  70  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

When  we  leave  here,  we  shall  go  out  on  one  of  the  bridges 
across  the  Thames,  and  get  a  view  of  the  river-front  of  the  Houses 
of  Parliament,  with  the  great  Victoria  Tower  at  one  end,  and  at 
the  other  the  Clock  Tower,  with  four  clock-faces,  each  of  which  is 
twenty-three  feet  in  diameter ;  so  that  people  do  not  have  to  go 
very  close  to  see  what  time  it  is.  The  large  bell  in  this  tower 
weighs  thirteen  tons,  and  it  requires  five  hours  to  wind  up  the 
striking  part  of  the  clock. 

We  are  now  in  the  western  part  of  London,  which  is  the  fash- 
ionable quarter,  where  the  lords  and  ladies  and  the  rich  and  grand 
people  live,  and  where  the  shops  are  finer,  the  people  better  dressed, 
and  where  there  are  more  private  carriages  -than  business  wagons. 
Among  the  fine  streets  here  are  Pall  Mall  (pronounced /^^// yJ/^//), 
where  we  see  on  either  side  of  the  street  large  and  handsome  build- 
ings belonging  to  the  London  clubs ;  and  Piccadilly,  full  of  grand 
shops,  leading  to  the  famous  Hyde  Park.  London  gentlemen  con- 
sider a  walk  down  Piccadilly  one  of  the  pleasantest  things  they  can 
do,  and  there  are  people  who  think  that  there  is  not  in  the  world  a 
street  so  attractive  as  this.  It  is  certainly  a  pleasant  promenade  ; 
and  for  a  great  part  of  its  length  we  have  on  one  side  the  beautiful 
trees  and  grass  of  Green  Park,  at  the  farther  side  of  which  stands 
Buckingham  Palace,  the  Queen's  London  residence. 

Hyde  Park,  with  the  adjoining  Kensington  Gardens,  is  a  very 
large  enclosure,  with  drives,  grassy  lawns,  and  fine  trees,  and  with  a 
pretty  river  running  through  it.  Near  Hyde  Park  corner,  where 
we  enter,  are  some  magnificent  residences,  among  which  is  Apsley 
House,  belonorinof  to  the  Duke  of  Wellinofton.  One  of  the  roads 
in  Hyde  Park  is  called  Rotten  Row,  and  is  devoted  entirely  to 
horseback  riding.  There  is  nothing  decayed  about  this  Row,  and 
it  is  said  that  the  place  used  to  be  called  Route  dc  Roi,  the  Road 
of  the  King,  and  it  has  generally  been  corrupted  into  Rotten  Row. 


KING  LONDON.  I  71 


There  are  many  proper  names  which  the  Enghsh  people  pro- 
nounce very  differently  from  the  way  in  which  they  are  spelled  :  St. 
John,  for  instance,  is  pronounced  Singe-on  ;  Beauchamp  is  Beecham; 
and  when  they  wish  to  mention  the  name  Cholmondeley,  they  say 
Chumley,  while  Sevenoaks  has  become  Snooks. 

From  twelve  to  two  o'clock  we  may  see  Rotten  Row  filled  with 
lady  and  gentleman  riders,  trotting  or  galloping  up  and  down.  But 
the  finest  sight  of  Hyde  Park  begins  about  five  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, when  the  carriages  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  fill  the  long 
drive  on  the  south  side  of  the  park.  There  is  no  place  in  the 
world  where  we  can  see  so  many  fine  horses  and  carriages,  so  much 
fashion,  so  much  wealth,  and  so  much  aristocracy,  in  a  compara- 
tively small  space,  as  in  Hyde  Park,  between  five  and  seven  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  during  what  is  called  the  "  London  season."  The 
carriages,  which  are  generally  open,  with  spirited  horses,  and  liv- 
eried coachmen,  some  of  whom  wear  powdered  wigs,  drive  up  one 
side  of  the  roadway  and  down  the  other,  keeping  as  close  to  one 
another  as  they  can  get,  and  forming  a  great  moving  mass,  which  it 
is  very  pleasant  to  gaze  upon.  Along  the  sidewalks  are  long  rows 
of  chairs  which  can  be  hired,  those  with  arms  for  four  cents,  and 
those  without  arms  for  two ;  and  on  these  it  is  the  delight  of  the 
London  people  to  sit  and  watch  the  show  of  handsome  equipages, 
beautiful  dresses,  and  high-born  faces-  No  cabs  or  public  vehicles 
are  allowed  on  this  drive,  which  is  entirely  devoted  to  private 
carriages. 

When  we  go  out  of  Hyde  Park  at  its  northeast  corner,  we 
enter  Oxford  Street,  a  wide  and  busy  thoroughfare,  crowded  with 
every  kind  of  vehicle  and  all  sorts  of  foot-passengers.  Crossing 
this  is  Regent  Street,  the  most  fashionable  shopping-street  in  Lon- 
don, where  we  find  the  finest  stores,  and  the  handsomest  displays 
in  the  windows.     This  street  is  very  wide,  and  the  houses  on  each 


172  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

side  are  nearly  all  of  the  same  color,  a  pale  yellow,  and  are  prob- 
ably painted  every  year  to  keep  them  fresh. 

We  are  now  going  back  toward  the  city,  and,  continuing 
through  the  lively  scenes  of  Oxford  Street,  we  perceive  that  after 
a  time  this  great  thoroughfare  changes  into  High  Holborn  ;  and  we 
may  remember  what  Thomas  Hood  had  to  say  about  a  lost  child  in 
this  street,  when  he  wrote  : 

"  One  day,  as  I  was  going  by 
That  part  of  Holborn  christened  High, 
I  heard  a  loud  and  sudden  cry 
That  chilled  my  very  blood." 

Then  the  street  becomes  Holborn  Viaduct,  where,  for  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  it  is  built  up  high  across  a  deep  depression  in  the 
city,  making  a  level  line  of  street  where  there  used  to  be  two  steep 
hills.  At  one  point  there  is  a  bridge  where  we  can  look  over  the 
railing  and  see  portions  of  the  city  spread  out  below  us.  At  one 
end  of  this  viaduct  is  the  old  Church  of  St.  Sepulchre,  where  lies 
buried  Captain  John  Smith,  who,  we  will  remember,  would  prob- 
ably have  been  buried  in  Virginia,  had  it  not  been  for  the  kindly 
intervention  of  Pocahontas.  And  at  the  other  end  is  the  famous 
prison  of  Newgate.  Daniel  Defoe — author  of  "Robinson  Crusoe" 
— Jack  Sheppard,  and  William  Penn  were  imprisoned  in  Newgate; 
but  the  building  has  been  a  great  deal  altered  since  their  times. 
The  street  here  is  called  Newgate  Street,  and  before  very  long  it 
merges  into  Cheapside,  and  we  find  ourselves  at  the  point  from 
which  we  started.  Not  far  from  Newo-ate  is  a  much  more  cheerful 
place,  of  which  most  of  us  have  heard  or  read.  This  is  Christ's 
Hospital,  the  home  of  the  Blue  Coat  Boys,  who,  with  their  long 
coats,  knee-breeches,  and  yellow  stockings,  and  never  wearing  any 
hats,  winter  or  summer,  are  frequently  to  be  met  with  in  the 
picture-galleries   and   other   public  places   in   London.      It  is   now 


XING  LONDON.  173 


>5 


the  intention  of  the  managers  of  this  school  to  move  it  into  the 
country. 

In  tlie  very  heart  of  the  city,  where  we  now  are,  stands  the 
great  Bank  of  England.  This  building,  with  one  of  its  sides  on 
Threadneedle  Street,  covers  about  four  acres,  but  is  only  one  story 
hiofh.  It  has  no  windows  on  the  outside,  throuQfh  which  thieves 
might  get  in  from  the  street,  and  light  and  air  are  supplied  by 
windows  opening  on  inside  courts.  This  is  one  of  the  richest 
banks  in  the  world  ;  its  vaults  often  contain  as  much  as  a  hundred 
million  dollars  in  gold,  and  every  night  a  small  detachment  of  sol- 
diers from  some  regiment  stationed  in  the  city  is  quartered  here  to 
protect  its  treasures.  Each  of  the  men  receives  a  small  sum  from 
the  bank,  and  the  officer  in  command  is  provided  with  a  dinner  for 
himself  and  any  two  friends  he  may  choose  to  invite.  But  at  a 
certain  hour  the  head  watchman  of  the  bank  comes  around  with 
the  great  keys,  to  lock  up  the  outer  door  with  ceremonies  that 
have  been  observed  for  generations,  and  the  two  friends  must 
leave,  whether  they  are  ready  to  go  or  not. 

Opposite  the  Bank  is  the  Mansion  House,  the  stately  edifice  in 
which  the  Lord  Mayor  lives.  Near  by  is  the  Royal  Exchange, 
with  a  grand  portico,  and  a  tall  tower,  on  the  top  of  which  is  a  great 
golden  grasshopper,  which  some  people  may  think  is  intended  to 
mean  that  the  money  made  by  the  hundreds  and  thousands  of  busi- 
ness-men who  crowd  here  during  certain  hours  will  skip  away  from 
them  if  they  are  not  careful :  in  reality,  it  is  the  crest  of  the  original 
builder  of  the  Exchanore.  In  this  neipfhborhood  also  is  the  Gen- 
eral  Post-Office  and  the  great  Telegraph  Building. 

A  good  deal  farther  eastward  than  these,  and  on  the  bank  of 
the  River  Thames,  which  runs  through  London  as  the  Seine  does 
through  Paris,  stands  the  ancient  and  far-famed  Tower  of  London. 
This   is  not  by  any  means  a  single   tower,  but   is  a  collection  of 


174  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

strongly  fortified  buildings  surrounded  by  a  high  and  massive  wall, 
and  is  a  veritable  castle,  or  fortress,  of  the  olden  time,  standing 
here  in  the  crowded  and  busy  London  of  to-day.  We  shall  wander 
for  a  long  time  through  this  gloomy  old  fortress  and  prison,  now 
used  as  an  arsenal  and  barracks  for  soldiers.  Most  of  the  ancient 
buildings,  towers,  and  walls  are  still  just  as  they  used  to  be.  Here 
we  shall  see  the  Bloody  Tower,  in  which  the  two  princes  were  mur- 
dered by  Richard  III.  ;  the  great  central  White  Tower,  built  by 
William  the  Conqueror,  and  now  containing  a  museum  of  old-time 
armor  and  weapons,  where  we  may  also  see  many  wooden  figures 
of  mounted  men  clad  in  the  very  armor  worn  long  ago  by  knights 
and  kings.  In  another  tower,  the  Beauchamp  Tower,  we  shall 
enter  the  prison-chamber  in  which  many  of  the  great  people  of 
England  were  confined,  and  we  can  read  the  inscriptions  written 
by  them  on  the  walls.  In  the  corner  of  the  enclosure  is  a  little 
chapel,  which  differs  from  every  other  church,  in  containing  the 
graves  of  so  many  famous  beheaded  people.  Among  these  are 
Queen  Anne  Boleyn  ;  Lady  Jane  Grey  and  her  husband;  Queen 
Elizabeth's  friend,  the  Earl  of  Essex  ;  and  others  with  whose  names 
we  are  very  familiar  in  English  history.  If  there  had  been  no  way 
of  cutting  off  people's  heads,  or  of  otherwise  putting  an  end  to 
them,  a  great  deal  of  the  history  of  the  world  would  never  have 
been  written.  In  another  tower,  where  it  is  said  Henry  VI.  was 
murdered,  we  shall  see  the  crown  jewels,  or  regalia,  of  England, 
which  are  here  for  safe-keeping.  They  are  in  a  great  glass  case 
surrounded  by  a  strong  iron-barred  cage,  through  which  a  thief, 
even  if  he  could  get  over  the  Tower  walls  and  through  its  guards, 
would  find  it  hard  to  break.  In  this  case  we  see  golden  crowns, 
sceptres,  swords,  and  crosses,  covered  with  magnificent  jewels  of 
every  kind,  besides  many  other  dazzling  and  costly  objects.  On 
Queen  Victoria's  state  crown  are  no  less  than  two   thousand  sevc^n 


KIXG   LOXDOX.  175 


hundred  and  eighty-three  diamonds  ;  and  in  front  is  the  great  ruby, 
said  to  have  belonged  to  the  Black  Prince,  which  Henry  V.,  who 
liked  to  make  a  gorgeous  appearance  on  great  occasions,  wore  on 
his  helmet  at  the  battle  of  Agincourt. 

Standing  about  in  various  places  in  the  Tower  grounds  we  shall 
meet  with  some  of  the  warders,  called  "  beef-eaters,"  which  is  an 
English  corruption  of  the  French  biiffcticrs,  or  royal  waiters. 
These  men  are  dressed  in  mediaeval  costume,  and  carry  tall 
halberds,  or  spears.  In  olden  times,  one  of  these  was  the  heads- 
man and  bore  a  great  axe. 

Not  far  from  the  Tower  are  the  great  London  Docks,  which 
are  not  upon  the  river,  but  are  inland  water  enclosures  of  more 
than  a  hundred  acres  in  extent,  surrounded  by  great  warehouses. 
In  these  docks  three  hundred  large  vessels  can  lie  ;  and  in  the 
warehouses,  and  in  the  immense  vaults  beneath  them,  are  stored 
such  vast  quantities  of  goods — tea,  silk,  tobacco,  coffee,  sugar,  wine, 
and  everything  that  can  be  brought  from  foreign  lands — that  there 
seems  to  be  no  end  or  limit  to  them.  A  visit  to  these  docks,  as 
well  as  to  the  West  India  Docks,  which  are  still  larger,  and  to 
several  others  in  this  quarter  of  London,  will  help  to  give  us  an  idea 
of  the  enormous  commerce  and  wealth  of  the  great  metropolis. 

Amone  the  sights  of  London  is  the  British  Museum,  which  is 
one  of  the  most  extensive  and  valuable  libraries  and  museums  in 
the  world.  There  are  more  than  a  million  books  here,  as  well  as 
collections  of  Grecian,  Assyrian,  and  Egyptian  marbles,  statuary, 
and  inscriptions  ;  with  curiosities,  antique  and  modern  ;  and  scien- 
tific and  other  interesting  objects,  in  number  like  the  leaves  upon  a 
tree.  If  any  of  my  companions  wish  to  examine  every  object  there 
is  in  the  British  Museum,  they  must  give  up  the  rest  of  London. 

Another  collection,  almost  as  large,  and  more  interesting  to 
many  persons,  is  the  South  Kensington  Museum. 


176  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

This  museum  is  mostly  devoted  to  objects  of  art,  and  contains 
both  ancient  and  modern  specimens  of  architecture,  paintings, 
statues,  beautiful  pottery  of  every  kind,  and  enough  things  worth 
looking  at  and  studying  to  tire  out  the  legs  and  brains  of  any 
human  being  who  should  try  to  see  them  all  at  one  time. 

In  Regent's  Park,  a  large  enclosure  to  the  north  of  Hyde  Park, 
are  the  Zoological  Gardens,  which  are  in  many  respects  more 
interesting  than  those  of  Paris,  and  are  very  admirably  arranged 
for  the  convenience  both  of  the  visitors  and  of  the  animals.  Here 
the  animals  have  more  room  to  move  about  than  is  usual  in 
menageries.  There  are  elephants  and  camels  which  carry  ladies 
and  children  up  and  down  the  grounds  ;  and  we  shall  see  some  fine 
Bengal  tigers,  belonging  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  in  a  great  open- 
air  enclosure  so  large  that  they  almost  seem  to  be  at  liberty,  and 
they  walk  about  and  bound  over  trunks  of  trees  as  if  they  were  in 
their  Indian  homes.  At  feeding-time,  which  is  in  the  afternoon, 
this  whole  place  is  in  a  state  of  rampage,  the  animals  requiring  no 
dinner-bell  to  let  them  know  what  time  it  is. 

Another  interesting  place,  where  the  creatures  require  no  food 
and  are  not  at  all  dangerous,  is  Madame  Tussaud's  wax-work 
show.  Here  we  shall  see  life-size  figures  of  famous  men  and 
women  from  all  parts  of  the  world — Richard  the  Lion-hearted, 
President  Lincoln,  Queen  Elizabeth,  Cetewayo,  Gladstone,  Gui- 
teau,  and  many  other  well-known  people.  Whenever  a  person 
does  anything  which  makes  him  famous,  a  wax  portrait-figure  of 
him,  dressed  in  the  same  kind  of  clothes  he  wears,  is  set  up  in 
this  gallery,  among  the  crowd  of  kings,  queens,  warriors,  states- 
men, and  criminals  already  here.  Here  is  a  figure  of  Cobbett,  the 
English  politician,  sitting  upon  one  of  the  long  benches  placed 
for  the  accommodation  of  visitors.  By  means  of  machinery  inside 
of  him,  his  head  every  now  and  then   moves  quickly  to  one  side,  as 


KING  LONDON.  177 


if  he  were  looking  around  to  see  who  is  there.  He  is  a  large  man, 
of  benevolent  appearance,  wearing  a  broad-brimmed  hat  like  a 
Quaker's,  and  it  is  considered  a  very  good  joke  when  some  visitor, 
thinking  him  a  real  man,  sits  down  by  him,  and  is  startled  at  the 
sudden  turn  of  his  head.  This  is  a  great  London  resort,  for  nearly 
everybody  wants  to  know  how  eminent  people  look,  and  what  kind 
of  clothes  they  wear. 

We  must  also  visit  the  great  London  markets,  one  of  which, 
called  Covent  Garden,  is  devoted  to  vegetables,  fruit,  and  flowers  ; 
and  these  are  brought  in  such  vast  numbers,  and  there  are  such  lively 
scenes  among  the  crowds  of  purchasers,  that  many  strangers,  who 
have  no  idea  of  buying,  come  here  in  the  early  mornings  simply  to 
witness  the  spectacle.  There  is  also  Smithfield  Market,  a  building 
covering  three  and  a  half  acres,  with  a  garden  and  fountain  in  the 
centre,  where  we  see  exposed  for  sale  the  meat  of  oxen,  calves, 
hogs,  and  sheep.  In  the  Billingsgate  Market  we  see  fish  in  such 
quantities  that  we  can  scarcely  imagine  how  a  city  which  eats  so 
much  fish  can  possibly  want  any  meat.  Leadenhall  Market  is 
given  up  entirely  to  poultry  and  game  ;  while  another  of  the  many 
London  markets  is  devoted  in  great  part  to  the  sale  of  water- 
cresses.  Near  Smithfield  Market  is  the  old  market-place  where 
many  famous  persons  were  burned  at  the  stake. 

While  we  are  in  this  part  of  the  town,  we  must  stop  for  a  time 
at  the  Guildhall,  the  ancient  Town  Hall  of  London,  where  there 
is  a  museum  of  curious  things  connected  with  old  London,  and 
where  we  may  still  see  the  queer  wooden  giants,  Gog  and  Magog. 

Leaving  the  noisy  city,  and  the  crowded  business  portions  of 
London,  it  is  a  great  relief  to  take  a  hansom  cab,  open  in  front, 
with  a  driver  sitting  out  of  our  sight  behind,  and  to  roll  swiftly 
over  the  smooth  streets  of  the  West  End,  as  it  is  called,  where  the 
rich   and   fashionable   people   live.      Here   we   find   a  great   many 


178  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

"squares,"  which  are  Httle  enclosed  parks  with  streets  and  dwelHng- 
houses  all  around  them ;  and  farther  to  the  west  we  come  to 
long  streets  and  avenues,  where  the  houses  have  front  gardens, 
and  often  back  gardens,  and  where  everything  is  as  quiet,  and 
almost  as  rural,  as  in  a  country  village.  Here,  if  we  do  not  know 
London,  we  may  think  that  we  are  in  the  suburbs,  and  that  we 
need  not  go  far  to  get  into  the  country ;  but  if  we  turn  up  a  side 
street,  and  go  a  block  or  two,  we  shall  come  upon  a  long,  noisy 
business  street,  crowded  with  people,  vehicles,  and  shops,  and  find 
ourselves  in  another  of  the  great  business  quarters  of  London. 
To  get  out  of  London  and  London  life  is  not  easy,  and  after 
strolling  for  hours  we  still  see  London  stretching  out  before  us,  as 
if  it  would  say,  "  Here  I  am,  and  if  you  want  to  see  the  end  of  me, 
you  must  walk  a  long,  long  way  yet." 

There  are  many  places  outside  of  London  to  which  we  must 
certainly  go,  and  one  of  these  is  the  Crystal  Palace.  Li  this  great 
glass  building  we  may  see  miles  of  interesting  things  connected 
with  architecture,  art,  and  nature.  Theatrical  performances  also 
are  given  here,  and  concerts,  and  sometimes  grand  shows  of 
fireworks. 

Then  there  is  Hampton  Court,  an  old  palace  built  by  Cardinal 
Wolsey,  with  very  beautiful  grounds  and  garden,  laid  out  in  the 
old-fashioned  style.  There  we  may  wander  in  the  walks  and  under 
the  trees  where  "bluff  King  Hal,"  and  later  Charles  I.,  wandered 
with  their  courtiers. 

At  Windsor  Castle,  the  residence  of  Queen  Victoria,  we  shall 
spend  a  day  ;  and,  although  the  Queen  may  not  be  likely  to  ask  us 
in,  we  shall  see  a  great  deal  of  the  interior  of  the  magnificent 
building  in  which  the  sovereigns  of  England,  from  as  far  back  as 
Edward  III.,  have  lived. 

Then    we    must   go    to    Richmond,    a    charming  village    on    the 


KING  LONDON. 


179 


Thames,  where  all  London  people  go,  and  where  there  is  a  beauti- 
ful park  and  view. 

We  may  also  visit  Greenwich,  at  longitude  nothing,  and  go  to 
the  celebrated  Kew  Gardens,  full  of  rare  and  beautiful  trees  and 
plants  and  flowers. 


THE   VirxORIA    EMBANKMENT.    LONDON. 


The  Victoria  Embankment  is  a  maq-nificent  roadway  extending 
along  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  from  Blackfriars  Bridge  to  West- 
minster Bridge,  more  than  a  mile.  It  is  built  over  a  low  shore 
which  used  to  be  covered  by  water  twice  every  day  at  high  tide. 
This  great  work  consists  of  a  wide  roadway  with  handsome  walks 
on  either  side,  and  is  shaded  by  trees  and  embellished  with  statues. 


l8o  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


In  some  places  there  are  gardens  on  it,  and  here  stands  a  hand- 
some obelisk  which  was  brought  from  Egypt.  The  embankment 
cost  ten  millions  of  dollars,  and  under  it  are  tunnels,  through  one 
of  which  runs  one  of  the  underground  railways  of  London. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  river  is  another  roadway  of  the  same 
kind,  not  so  long,  called  the  Albert  Embankment.  The  first  of 
these  is  often  called  the  Thames  Embankment. 

And  now,  my  good  readers,  do  you  suppose  that  we  have  seen 
all  London  ?  You  may  have  an  idea  of  it,  but  I  could  take  you 
about  for  a  week  or  two  more  and  show  you  interesting  places  and 
things  which  we  have  not  yet  seen.  But  we  have  done  as  much 
as  we  can  at  present  ;  and  strapping  our  valises,  and  locking  our 
trunks,  we  shall  bid  good-by  to  great  King  London. 


X. 


IN    ENGLISH    COUNTRY. 

DURING  our  stay  in  England  we  shall  discover,  if  we  pay 
attention  to  what  people  say  and  do,  that  Great  Britain  is 
divided  into  two  grand  divisions :  one  is  London,  and  the 
other  is  the  rest  of  the  kingdom.  When  any  one  in  England  says 
he  is  going  to  town,  we  may  know  that  he  is  going  to  London. 
If  he  intended  to  visit  any  other  of  the  great  English  cities,  he 
would  mention  Manchester,  Liverpool,  Birmingham,  or  whatever 
its  name  might  be.  Town  life  means  London  life,  and  the  other 
cities,  no  matter  how  large  and  important  they  are,  are.  considered 
provincial,  and  a  little  countrified. 

An  American  boy  or  girl,  who  knows  something  of  country  life 
in  a  land  which  stretches  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  and 
covers  a  great  part  of  a  continent,  will  be  apt  to  think  that  Eng- 
land, about  as  large  as  the  State  of  Illinois,  and  with  a  population 
of  over  thirty  millions,  must  be  so  full  of  people  that  no  part  of  it 
could  have  that  quiet  and  secluded  character  which  belongs  to  real 
country  life.  But  this  is  a  mistake.  A  great  portion  of  the  popu- 
lation of  England  is  so  packed  and  crowded  into  its  cities,  towns, 
and  villages,  that  there  are  wide  extents  of  country  which  are  as 
rural  and  pastoral  as  any  lover  of  country  life  need  desire  to  see, 
unless,  indeed,  he  be  fond  only  of  the  primeval  forest  or  the 
trackless  prairie.  In  this  little  country  we  may  even  find  extensive 
forests,  and  far-reaching  districts  like  the  great  moors  of  Devon- 


1 82  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

shire,  which  in  parts  are  ahiiost  as  desolate  and  uninhabited  as  a 
wild  prairie. 

But  the  great  population  of  England  has  had  a  peculiar  inHu- 
cnce  upon  the  appearance  of  the  country.  Where  there  are  so 
many  people  to  work,  a  vast  deal  of  work  has  been  done.  The 
land  is  well  and  even  beautifully  cultivated  ;  the  roads  are  almost 
as  smooth  and  hard  as  a  driveway  in  a  park  ;  and  there  is  a  general 
appearance  of  order  and  high  culture  which  could  not  be  expected 
in  a  country  like  ours,  where  there  is  so  much  to  do,  and,  com- 
paratively, so  few  to  do  it. 

England  owes  one  of  its  greatest  beauties  to  its  climate.  We 
need  not  wonder  that  its  fields  and  hillsides  are  so  richl}'^  green,  and 
that  its  trees  and  hedge-rows  are  so  verdant  and  luxuriant,  when  we 
consider  that  the  whole  countr)'  is  well  watered  nearly  every  clay. 
Rainy,  or  at  least  showery,  weather  is  so  common  in  England  that 
most  things  which  ilourish  when  well  supplied  with  water  are  bound 
to  flourish  there.  It  is  not  pleasant  to  be  caught  in  a  shower  when 
one  least  expects  it,  or  to  go  out  in  the  rain  because  it  will  be  of 
no  use  to  wait  until  the  rain  is  over  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
delightful  to  look  upon  the  charming  country  which  springs  up 
under  a  watering-pot  sky.  P)Ut  there  are  often  clear,  sunny  days 
in  England,  and  while  we  are  in  that  country  we  must  imitate  the 
English  people,  and  when  it  does  rain  we  must  not  mind  it.  The 
idea  of  good  weather  is  very  different  there  from  what  it  is  with  us. 
A  gentle  rain  is  not  regarded,  and  I  have  heard  two  men,  standing 
under  umbrellas  in  a  drizzling  sprinkle,  remark  to  each  other  that 
it  was  a  fine  day. 

I  wish  my  young  companions  to  see  for  themselves  what  real 
rural  life  and  rural  scenery  is  in  England,  and  so  I  shall  take  them 
with  me  to  a  place  which  is  as  truly  "out  in  the  country"  as  any 
spot  we  are  likely  to  visit  on  this  island.      It  is  not  a  wild  moorland 


IN  ENGLISH  COUNTRY. 


183 


nor  a  thinly  populated  mountainous  district,  but  a  place  where  we 
can  see  the  ordinary  country  life  as  we  read  about  it  in  English 
books  and  stories. 

We  begin  our  journey  by  going  to  Paddington  station,  London, 
where  we  take  tickets  for  Prince's  Risborough,  a  little  town  on  the 


•&iss-Mi)i^m^- 


-.f:iv^'i 


AN    ENGLISH    MEADOW. 


Great  Western  Railway.  For  a  time  we  roll  swiftly  along  on 
the  main  line  of  the  Great  Western,  but  soon  branch  off  on  a 
single-track  road,  on  which  we  go  as  slowly,  and  stop  as  often, 
as  on  some  of  our  own  railroads.  In  about  two  hours  we  reach 
Prince's  Risborough,  a  small  town  in  Buckinghamshire.  This 
county  is  generally  called  Bucks  for  short. 


1  84  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

Our  destination,  however,  is  Monk's  Risborough,  which  is  a 
Httle  village  a  few  miles  farther  in  the  country.  At  the  station 
we  take  "  flies" — not  blue-bottle  ones,  but  one-horse  carriages,  each 
holding  four  persons  ;  and  our  baggage,  which  in  England  is  called 
"luggage,"  is  carried  in  a  "van,"  or  spring-wagon.  We  drive 
away  over  a  smooth  hard  road,  and  although  it  is  raining  steadily, 
and  we  are  obliged  to  keep  the  carriage  windows  shut,  we  see  that 
we  are  passing  through  a  very  pretty  country,  which  will  be  a  great 
deal  prettier  when  the  sun  shines.  At  Monk's  Risborough,  which 
is  a  very  little  village,  we  do  not  stop,  but  go  still  farther  on  to  a 
very  pleasant  country  house,  where  we  have  arranged  to  stay  for 
a  week  or  so. 

There  we  shall  find  what  English  people  are  at  home,  and  I  am 
sure  we  shall  like  them  very  much.  The  lady  of  the  house  greets 
us  very  cordially,  and  immediately  wishes  to  know  if  we  will  have 
some  tea,  which  is  presently  served  to  us,  accompanied  by  thin 
slices  of  bread  and  butter.  The  I^^nglish  are  very  fond  of  tea,  and 
at  whatever  hour  of  the  afternoon  we  visit  them,  we  are  very  sure 
of  getting  some.  Here  we  shall  be  pleasantly  lodged,  and  every 
day  we  shall  have  four  good  meals  :  breakfast  about  nine  o'clock, 
—  not  the  simple  meal  of  bread  and  coffee  to  which  we  were  accus- 
tomed on  the  Continent,  but  plenty  of  ham  or  bacon,  eggs,  marma- 
lade, water-cress  or  some  such  green  thing,  tea  and  coffee,  toast 
and  bread  and  butter,  but  no  hot  fresh  bread.  At  two  o'clock  we 
have  dinner,  very  much  like  a  good  countr)'  dinner  at  home  ;  and  if 
any  of  us  are  fond  of  gooseberry  or  apple  tarts,  we  shall  probably 
think  that  \ve  never  tasted  any  better  than  those  we  have  here.  In 
England  a  "  pie  "  means  pastry  with  meat,  such  as  a  veal,  a  pork, 
or  a  chicken  pie.  while  pastries  with  fruit  are  called  tarts.  At  five 
o'clock  the  tea-bell  rings,  when  we  sit  around  a  table  well  supplied 
with  bread  and  butter,  several  kinds  of  cake,  and  preserves,  while 


IN  ENGLISH  COUNTRY.  185 

the  lady  of  the  house  sits  behind  a  teapot  and  a  hot-water  pot, 
each  covered  with  a  great  embroidered  "  cosey,"  Hke  a  giant's  night- 
cap, and  these  are  kept  on  when  the  tea  is  not  being  poured  out, 
so  that  it  has  no  chance  to  get  cool.  Between  eight  and  nine  we 
have  supper,  which  is  a  substantial  meal,  consisting  of  cold  meat, 
with  lettuce  or  some  other  salad,  bread  and  butter,  and  cheese,  and 
for  those  who  like  malt  liquors,  plenty  of  brown  stout  and  ale,  but 
no  tea  or  coffee.  We  might  imagine  that  such  a  meal  at  this 
hour  would  interfere  with  our  night's  sleep,  but  in  this  country 
it  does  not  seem  to  do  so.  It  is  asserted  that  there  is  some- 
thing In  the  climate  of  England  which  enables  people  to  eat 
and  drink  more  without  injury  than  they  can  in  our  drier  and 
thinner  air.  Among  people  in  high  life,  In  country  as  well  as  town, 
it  is  customary  to  have  very  late  dinners,  but  we  are  concerned 
with  the  ordinary  rural  life  of  what  is  called  the  English  middle 
class. 

The  next  morning  we  start  out  to  see  the  country,  and  the  first 
place  we  go  to  Is  Monk's  RIsborough.  This  little  village,  or  hamlet, 
was  once  part  of  the  property  of  the  monks  of  Canterbury,  and  so 
came  by  its  name.  It  is  one  of  the  quaintest  and  most  old-fash- 
ioned villages  in  England.  Most  of  the  houses  are  cottages  inhab- 
ited by  poor  people.  The  roofs  are  thatched,  and  the  windows, 
which  are  very  small,  and  open  on  hinges  like  doors,  have  little 
panes,  about  six  Inches  high,  set  in  leaden  strips.  Many  of  these 
cottages  have  vines  running  over  their  sides  and  projecting  gable- 
ends,  and  pretty  little  gardens.  On  the  outskirts  of  the  village 
there  are  a  few  large  and  pleasant-looking  houses  belonging  to  the 
"gentle-folk."  One  of  these  is  the  rectory;  and  not  far  away  is 
the  church,  a  very  old  one,  which  gives  us  an  idea  of  what  village 
churches  were  a  few  centuries  ag-o. 

On  the  pews  there  are  some  very  curious  old  carvings,  and  on 


I  86  PERSONALLr  CONDUCTED. 

a  large  screen  there  are  twelve  panels,  nine  of  which  are  now  occu- 
pied by  pictures  ;  each  of  these  represents  a  man  clad  in  furs  and 
velvet,  and  although  they  were  painted  so  long  ago  that  nobody 
knows  exactly  whom  they  were  intended  to  represent,  there  can  be 
but  little  doubt  that  they  were  meant  for  the  twelve  apostles,  all 
the  panels  originally  having  been  filled. 

Near  the  village  schoolhouse  stands  the  dwelling  of  the  school- 
master, which  is  so  very  pretty,  so  very  small,  and  so  very  neat,  and 
has  so  prim  and  tidy  a  little  flower-garden  in  front  of  it,  that  if 
baby  houses  for  grown  people  came  packed  in  boxes,  we  might 
imagine  that  this  had  been  freshly  taken  out  of  one.  As  we  look 
upon  this  little  village — and  it  will  take  us  but  a  short  time  to  see 
the  whole  of  it — the  first  impression  that  it  will  make  upon  most 
of  us  will  be,  that  although  all  this  is,  in  reality,  new  to  us,  we  have 
been  very  familiar  with  it  in  books  and  pictures. 

As  we  walk  along  the  broad  highway  which  leads  from  the 
village,  we  meet  a  man  who  may  perhaps  surprise  us.  This  is  a 
letter-carrier,  with  his  bag,  briskly  walking  away  into  the  open 
country.  The  nearest  post-ofifice  is  at  Prince's  Risborough,  some 
miles  away ;  but  here  he  is,  delivering  letters  at  the  farmhouses 
and  country  seats  in  the  neighborhood,  and  when  he  goes  back  he 
will  collect  them  from  the  little  box  set  up  against  a  garden  wall 
in  the  village.  This  is  very  different  from  what  we  see  in  our 
country,  where  it  is  only  in  cities  that  letters  are  delivered,  and  in 
some  large  towns  persons  who  want  their  letters  must  go  to  the 
post-office  for  them.  But  in  England  letters  are  delivered  every- 
where, and  even  in  the  quietest  country  place  people  can  have  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  the  postman's  knock  at  the  door.  Some  of 
these  carriers  must  take  very  long  walks,  but  Englisli  people  do 
not  appear  to  object  to  that  sort  of  thing.  Two  young  girls,  the 
daughters  of  our  hostess,  will,  at  any  time,  step  over  to   Prince's 


IN  ENGLISH  COUNTRY,  1 87 


Risboroueh  and  back,  a  distance  of  more  than  five  miles,  and  think 
nothing  of  it. 

But  we  shall  want  to  see  so  much  in  this  beautiful  county  of 
Bucks,  that  we  shall  not  be  content  with  walking  ;  and  the  next 
morning  we  will  set  out  for  a  good  long  drive,  some  of  us  in  a 
"  fly,"  and  some  in  little  pony  carriages,  which  last  we  can  hire  for 
about  three  shillings  a  day,  if  we  drive  ourselves  and  give  the  horse 
some  beans  for  a  midday  meal.  The  day  is  clear  and  bright,  and 
we  see  that  even  in  this  well-sprinkled  isle  it  is  possible  to  have 
blue  sky  and  sunny  air.  The  country  we  pass  through  is  gently 
rolling,  with  here  and  there  hills  of  considerable  height.  Many  of 
the  fields  are  covered  with  rich,  luxuriant  grass,  and  those  which 
are  cultivated  look  very  small  compared  with  American  grain  and 
corn  fields  ;  but  these  little  plats  are  so  carefully  tilled  that  the 
product  from  one  of  them  is  often  quite  as  great  as  that  from  one 
of  our  very  much  larger  fields.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  see 
good-sized  fields  planted  with  vegetables  which  with  us  are  gener- 
ally grown  in  gardens,  such  as  beans,  which  are  largely  used  for 
horse  and  cattle  feed.  Speaking  of  corn,  we  find  that  in  England 
this  name  is  given  to  wheat,  rye,  barley,  and  other  kinds  of  grain. 
In  America  the  maize  which  our  forefathers  found  was  called 
Indian  corn  to  distinguish  it  from  the  other  grains  ;  and  when  its 
cultivation  became  very  general,  we  called  it  simply  corn,  and 
ceased  to  apply  that  name  to  any  other  kind  of  grain.  We  do  not 
see  this  crop  in  England,  although  it  has  been  introduced  into 
some  parts  of  the  Continent. 

Many  of  the  roads  we  drive  over  are  just  wide  enough  for  two 
vehicles  to  pass  each  other,  and  are  almost  always  bordered  on  each 
side  by  luxuriant  hedges,  often  ten  or  twelve  feet  high.  These 
are  composed  largely  of  hawthorn  bushes  ;  and  as  it  is  now  the 
early  part  of  June,  these  bushes  are  covered  with  lovely  white  and 


1 88  PERSOXALLF  CONDUCTED. 

sometimes  light  pink  l)lossoms.  Driving  between  these  long  lines 
of  dainty-flowering  and  sweet-smelling  rows  of  hedges  is  very 
delig-htful.  It  is  true  that  the  tall  hed^res  cut  off  some  of  our 
view  ;  but  the  hawthorn  bushes,  with  here  and  there  a  pretty  clump 
of  green  trees,  are  enough  to  look  at  for  a  time.  After  a  while  we 
come  out  upon  the  brow  of  a  hill  and  on  a  wider  road  where  the 
hedges  have  been  clipped  ;  and  here,  stretching  around  us,  are 
miles  and  miles  of  lovely  English  scenery.  What  we  principally 
see  are  green  fields  divided  by  hedge-rows,  and  masses  of  trees  and 
shrubbery  all  richly  green,  and  of  luxuriant  growth.  W'e  seldom 
see  rows  of  fences,  or  wide,  unshaded  stretches  of  pasture-land. 
The  country  is  so  pretty  and  so  picturesque  that  one  might  think 
it  had  been  laid  out  and  planted  like  a  landscape  garden  or  a  park 
simply  to  make  it  look  beautiful  ;  but,  of  course,  this  is  not  the 
case,  for  the  farmers  of  England,  like  most  other  farmers,  prefer 
the  useful  to  the  ornamentak  But  centuries  of  careful  cultivation 
and  rain,  added  to  a  considerable  degree  of  good  taste  on  the  part 
of  the  great  proprietors,  have  made  England  the  lovely  country 
that  it  is. 

On  the  side  of  a  high,  long  hill  lies  a  very  pretty  little  village 
called  W'hiteleaf.  and  above  it,  fiat  against  the  green  slope  of  the 
hill,  we  see  an  immense  white  cross.  It  is  so  large  that  it  is  visible 
at  a  distance  of  many  miles.  It  looks  as  if  it  were  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  long,  and  it  is  formed  by  cutting  away  the  green  turf 
and  exposing  the  white  chalk,  which,  in  this  part  of  the  country, 
lies  directly  underneath  the  top  soil.  This  work  was  done  by  an 
antiquarian  society,  to  commemorate  a  great  battle  fought  here 
between  the  Dan(,'s  and  Saxons.  The  society  owns  the  land,  and 
has  appropriated  funds  to  keep  tlic  cross  always  white,  and  clean 
from  irrass  an^l  weeds. 

Among  the  things  which   will   appear  novel   to   us  will   be  the 


IN  ENGLISH  COUNTRY. 


189 


great  number  of  little  public-houses,  or  inns,  which  we  shall  see 
scattered  about  the  country,  generally  at  the  junction  of  two  roads. 
These  have  siccus  with  their  names,  such  as   "  The    Three  Crowns," 


A   VILLAGE   INN. 


"The  White  Hart."  "The  Swan,"  "The  Plough  and  Harro\^^'^ 
for  instance,  and  a  picture  of  these  objects  painted  thereon.  Eng- 
lish people  drink  a  great  deal  of  beer  and  ale,  and  no  matter  how 
secluded  and  quiet  the  spot  may  be  where  we  find  one  of  these 


190  PERSONALLV  COXDUCTED. 

inns,  we  shall  generally  see  a  wagon  or  a  two-wheeled  spring-cart 
standing  outside,  while  the  owner  is  refreshing  himself  within. 

Another  thinsr  which  makes  country  drivinof  here  different  from 
what  it  is  at  home,  and  not  only  different,  but  very  much  more 
safe  and  pleasant,  is  the  fact  that  wherever  a  road  crosses  a  railroad 
track,  it  either  goes  over  it  by  a  bridge  or  under  it  by  a  tunnel. 
There  is  no  drivino-  across  the  rails  ;  and  the  tall  si^n,  with  "  Look 
out  for  the  locomotive  "  upon  it,  is  unnecessary  here. 

We  are  not  going  anywhere  in  particular  this  morning,  and 
merely  drive  wherever  our  fancy  leads  us.  We  pass  cottages  with 
thatch  on  them  sometimes  a  foot  thick  ;  large  farmhouses,  and  now 
and  then  a  private  residence,  generally  standing  back,  and  well 
shaded  by  trees  ;  and  we  drive  through  two  villages,  not  far  from 
each  other,  called  Great  Kimball  and  Little  Kimball.  In  the 
former  is  a  handsome  old  church,  built  of  small  stones  very  oddly 
arranged,  which  is  interesting  to  us,  not  only  on  account  of  its 
appearance,  but  because  in  the  churchyard  around  it  began  the 
great  English  revolution  of  the  seventeenth  centur\".  Here  Crom- 
well, Ireton,  and  Hampden  met  and  arranged  their  plans  and 
projects. 

Not  far  away  is  Hampden  Park,  a  large  estate  which  once 
belonged  to  John  Hampden,  but  is  now^  the  property  of  the  Earl 
of  Buckinghamshire.  There  is  a  road  through  this  park  which  is 
free  to  the  public,  and  you  may  be  sure  we  shall  drive  through  it. 
The  park  is  very  extensive,  and  we  are  immediately  struck  by  the 
magnihcent  appearance  of  the  trees.  Some  of  the  great  beeches 
are  as  round  and  symmetrical  as  if  they  had  been  trimmed,  and  the 
foliage  everywhere  is  very  thick  and  heavy.  Althougli  the  park, 
in  portions,  is  so  thickly  wood(>d  that  it  seems  like  a  little  forest, 
the  trees  are  well  cared  for.  and  eacli  one  is  allowed  to  have  plenty 
of  room  to  expand  itself   in  a  natural  and  symmetrical  way.      At  a 


IN  ENGLISH  COUNTRY.  1 91 

distance  we  catch  a  view  of  the  house,  and  not  far  away  from  it 
we  see  a  curious-looking  tree  called  a  copper-beech,  the  leaves  of 
which  are  of  the  color  of  a  bright  English  penny.  These  trees  are 
comparatively  rare,  and  but  a  few  of  them  are  to  be  found  in  this 
county.  In  an  open  sunny  space  we  notice,  not  far  from  the  road, 
standing  among  the  thick  grass,  two  handsome  birds  as  large  as 
our  ordinary  poultry.  They  are  pheasants,  and  do  not  appear  to 
be  in  the  least  disturbed  at  seeing  us.  They  probably  know  that 
no  one  will  be  allowed  to  harm  them  except  in  the  game  season, 
which  will  not  arrive  for  several  months.  The  laws  reu^ardinof 
game  are  very  strict  in  England,  and  even  in  the  shooting  season 
no  one  who  does  not  "  preserve  "  game,  as  the  rearing  and  care  of  it 
is  here  called,  is  allowed  to  kill  a  rabbit,  a  partridge,  or  a  pheasant, 
even  on  his  own  property.  All  such  game  is  considered  to  belong 
to  those  persons  in  the  neighborhood  who  have  "  preserves."  If 
a  rabbit  should  come  into  the  garden  of  the  house  where  we  are 
staying,  and  be  found  eating  the  cabbages,  it  may  be  driven  away  ; 
but  if  the  owner  of  the  garden  should  catch  or  kill  it,  he  would  be 
subject  to  a  penalty. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  great  proprietors  are  always 
stingy  about  their  game.  On  one  of  the  estates  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales  each  poor  man  is  allowed  to  come  to  the  house  every  day 
in  the  shooting  season,  and  get  one  rabbit.  He  is  perfectly  wel- 
come to  the  animal  when  it  is  dead,  for  the  prince  and  his  friends 
could  not  possibly  eat  all  they  shoot  ;  but  if  he  should  presume 
to  deprive  the  owner  of  the  pleasure  of  killing  it,  he  would  be  a 
poacher  and  be  put  in  prison. 

As  we  drive  on  we  see,  to  the  left,  a  beautiful  open  glade, 
the  sides  of  which  are  perfectly  parallel,  running  for  about  a  mile 
throuorh  the  thick  woods.  When  Oueen  Elizabeth  once  made  a 
visit  here,  and  was   about  to  return  to  London,  this   opening  was 


192  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

cut  through  the  park  as  a  road  by  which  her  Majesty  might  reach 
the  highway  in  the  most  direct  manner,  and  so  have  a  shorter 
journey  to  London.  This  royal  road  was  only  used  on  this  occa- 
sion, and  the  wide  avenue  is  now  covered  with  rich  grass  and  is 
called  Oueen  Elizabeth's  Glade. 

After  drivinor  a  mile  or  two  amoncr  the  or^and  old  trees  of  the 
park,  we  come  out  upon  a  public  road  and  soon  reach  Hampden 
Common,  which  is  a  wide,  open  space,  covered  with  short  grass 
and,  ill  places,  with  heavy  growths  of  gorse,  which  is  a  short, 
prickh'  bush  just  beginning  to  show  large  masses  of  yellow  flowers. 
On  the  edge  of  the  open  space  we  see  some  cottages,  and,  although 
all  the  land  here  is  the  property  of  the  earl,  the  poor  people  living 
in  these  have  a  right,  which  has  been  possessed  for  generations, 
to  the  use  of  this  common  for  grazing  and  other  purposes.  Wan- 
dering about  on  the  short  grass,  we  may  see  a  great  many  flocks 
of  ducks,  most  of  them  young,  downy,  and  as  yellow  as  canary 
birds.  The  raising  of  ducks  is  a  great  industry  among  the  poor 
people  in  this  part  of  the  country,  which  is  not  far  from  Aylesbury, 
the  home  of  a  very  famous  breed  of  ducks.  A  number  of  beau- 
tiful sheep,  with  black  heads  and  legs,  are  grazing  not  far  from 
us  ;  and  as  this  is  one  of  the  English  commons  about  which  we 
have  so  often  read,  we  naturally  look  for  a  gypsy  encampment. 
This  we  do  not  see,  although  it  is  quite  probable  that  if  we  were  to 
come  some  other  day  we  might  find  one. 

We  return  home  by  the  way  of  Prince's  Risborough,  which  is 
quite  a  little  town,  consisting  mainly  of  a  long  street  of  old-fash- 
ioned two-story  houses  with  queer  gables  and  brass  knockers,  a 
funny  little  market-house  in  an  open  space  to  one  side,  and  rather 
more  houses  of  entertainment  for  man  and  beast  than  lliere  seem 
to  be  men  and  beasts  to  entertain. 

On  another  day  we  shall   take  a  drive  of  about  eight   miles  to 


IN  ENGLISH  COUNTRY.  1 93 

Hughenden,  which  was  the  residence  of  the  late  Benjamin  DisraeH, 
afterward  Lord  Beaconsfield.  Our  way  takes  us  through  a  variety 
of  pretty  shaded  ,  lanes,  with  now  and  then  an  open  road ;  and 
sometimes  we  pass  a  perfectly  green  lane,  entirely  covered  with 
short,  thick  turf,  along  which  it  must  be  very  pleasant  to  wander 
on  foot.  When  we  reach  Husfhenden  Park  we  first  visit  the 
church,  at  the  back  of  which  is  the  tomb  of  the  famous  novelist 
and  statesman.  On  the  wall  of  the  church  is  a  tall  tablet  contain- 
ing a  long  inscription  in  praise  of  the  great  man's  wife,  but  not  a 
word  to  indicate  that  he  himself  was  anybody  in  particular. 

Other  parts  of  the  churchyard  are  occupied  by  old,  old  graves 
and  tombstones,  and  in  it  stands  a  picturesque  thatched  cottage, 
in  which  the  sexton  lives.  Farther  on  is  the  rectory,  a  remarkably 
pretty  house,  surrounded  by  fine  grounds  and  shrubbery  ;  and  we 
soon  reach  the  mansion  of  Hughenden,  which,  although  a  very 
large  house,  is  not  pretentious- looking  nor  very  handsome.  We 
pass  through  great  gates  of  ornamental  Iron-work,  surmounted  by 
the  gilded  crown  and  castle  of  the  Disraeli  coat-of-arms. 

The  grounds  immediately  around  the  house  are  kept  In  very 
fine  order  ;  the  broad  gravel  drive  is  as  smooth  and  hard  as  a  floor, 
while  the  grass  Is  cut  and  rolled  so  that  there  does  not  seem  to  be 
a  single  blade  more  than  half  an  Inch  high.  Instead  of  a  portico, 
we  see  on  each  side  of  the  entrance-door,  which  is  but  a  step  above 
the  ground,  a  large  space,  enclosed  with  great  panes  of  plate-glass, 
filled  with  most  beautiful  flowers  and  tropical  plants,  which  give  a 
very  cheerful  and  bright  appearance  to  the  house. 

We  are  met  at  the  door  by  a  neat  little  woman  dressed  In 
black,  who  is  the  housekeeper,  and  looks  at  first  in  a  rather  for- 
bidding way;  but  when  she  hears  we  are  Americans  who  wish  to 
see  the  house,  she  smiles  very  pleasantly  and  invites  us  to  walk  In. 
English  country  houses,  during  the  absence  of  their  owners,  are 
13 


194  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

generally  shown  to  respectable  visitors.  This  house  is  occupied 
at  present  by  a  gentleman  who  will  live  here  until  the  nephew  of 
the  late  owner  comes  of  age,  but  the  house  is  kept  in  the  same 
condition  that  it  was  when  Lord  Beaconsfield  w^as  alive.  It  is 
furnished  w^ith  simple  elegance,  but  there  is  nothing  grand  or 
gorgeous  about  it,  such  as  we  might  expect  to  see  in  the  home 
of  the  man  who  wrote  "  Lothair,"  and  who  made  his  Queen  the 
Empress  of  India.  There  is  a  room  which  was  furnished  for 
Oueen  Victoria,  when  she  made  a  visit  here,  and  some  of  the  o-irls 
may  take  an  interest  in  a  chair  which  was  embroidered  by  the 
Princess  Beatrice. 

When  we  have  taken  leave  of  the  housekeeper,  and  have 
dropped  some  silver  into  her  hand,  we  drive  out  through  another 
part  of  the  park  and  go  on  a  few  miles  farther  to  tlie  important 
town  of  Wycombe  ;  and  here  we  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  an 
Knglish  country  town  on  market-day.  Many  of  the  houses  are 
very  old-fashioned,  having  upper  stories  projecting  two  or  three 
feet  over  the  sidewalk,  with  funn)-  little  shops  beneath.  The  main 
street  is  very  wide,  and  to-day  very  busy  ;  everywhere  we  see 
farmers  who  have  come,  some  in  spring-carts  and  some  on  horse- 
back; all  sorts  of  people  are  walking  among  the  vehicles,  and  a 
great  part  of  the  street  is  occupied  by  little  pens  in  which  sheep 
or  calves  are  confined,  while  cows  are  standing  by  the  curbstone 
— the  purchasers  and  sellers  talking  and  shouting  around  them. 
Passing  the  live-stock,  we  see  large  spaces  in  the  street  covered 
with  cheap  tin  and  wooden  ware ;  and,  besides  these,  there  are 
displa)'s  of  dry  goods  and  all  sorts  of  things  which  country  people 
would  come  to  town  to  buy.  It  is  more  Hke  a  fair  than  a  market, 
and,  although  we  are  rather  late  in  the  day  to  see  the  best  of  it,  it 
is  a  very  bustling  and  interesting  scene. 

It  is  now  time  for  ourselves  and  our  horses  to  have  something 


IN  ENGLISH  COUNTRi:  195 

to  eat  :  so  we  go  to  the  Red  Lion  Inn,  over  the  door  of  which  is 
a  great  wooden  Hon,  painted  red,  with  a  long,  straight  tail,  with  a 
tuft  at  the  end  like  a  dust-brush.  This  is  one  of  the  old-time 
inns,  such  as  we  read  about  in  Dickens's  stories.  We  drive  under 
an  archway  which  leads  back  to  the  stables  ;  and  on  one  side  is 
a  door  opening  into  the  handsomely  furnished  bar,  behind  the 
counter  of  which  is  a  nice  buxom  Englishwoman  ;  and  beyond  this 
is  the  tap-room,  where  the  farmers  sit  down  to  drink  their  ale  and 
beer.  We  alight  at  the  door  to  the  right,  which  leads  to  the  coffee- 
room,  a  large  room  with  a  long,  wide  dining-table  in  the  centre. 
The  furniture  is  heavy,  but  very  comfortable,  and  the  walls  are 
hung  with  a  variety  of  pictures,  a  series  of  which  show  the  vari- 
ous accidents  which  used  to  befall  the  old  stage-coaches.  We  sit 
around  the  table,  and  when  a  great  joint  of  cold  beef,  the  half  of 
a  cheese,  a  loaf  of  bread,  some  butter,  some  lettuce  and  water- 
cresses,  and  two  or  three  pitchers  of  brown  stout  or  ale  have  been 
placed  before  us,  the  waiter  goes  away,  and  leaves  us  to  eat  and 
drink  as  much  as  we  please.  This  is  the  usual  fashion  in  the 
English  inns  ;  a  portion  is  not  brought  to  each  one,  but  we  cut 
what  we  like  from  the  joint,  the  loaf,  and  the  cheese,  and  all  are 
charged  the  same,  whether  they  eat  little  or  much. 

When  we  have  eaten  a  hearty  meal,  and  have  looked  at  all 
the  dogs,  horses,  coaches,  and  portraits  on  the  walls,  we  "  tip  "  the 
waiter,  "tip"  the  hostlers  who  have  taken  care  of  our  horses,  "tip" 
the  bar-maid  who  brings  us  our  change,  and  drive  away  home  by  a 
different  road  from  that  we  came. 

We  pass  a  beautiful  park  belonging  to  Lady  Dash  wood,  which 
extends  for  a  long  distance  ;  and  not  far  from  the  road  we  see  the 
family  mausoleum,  which  is  a  large  temple-like  building  on  the  top 
of  a  hill.  It  seems  rather  queer,  afterward,  to  meet  a  common 
cart  with   Lady  Dashwood's  name  on  it  ;  but  all  vehicles  used  for 


196 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


draught  on  public  roads  in  England  must  have  painted  upon  them 
the  name  of  the  owner,  and  we  may  sometimes  see  an  earl's  name 
upon  a  hay-wagon  or  a  cart  loaded  with  gravel.  Some  of  the 
famous  and  wealthy  family  of   Rothschild  live  in  this  county,  and 


A    QUIKT    HIT    U1--    KNGLISU    COUNTRY. 


whenever  we  pass  one  of  their  farm  gates  we  see  the  initials  of  the 
owmer  painted  upon  it.  In  our  country  it  is  very  seldom  that  we 
can  find  out  in  this  way  the  owners  of  the  estates  we  see. 

Very  often,  when  we  pass  a  cottage  by  the  roadside,  we  notice, 
through  the  open  door,  a  woman  with  a  little  j)illow  on  her  lap, 
making  lace.      A  great  deal  of  lace  of  a  pretty  but  not  very  expen- 


IN  ENGLISH  COUNTRY,  I97 


sive  kind  is  made  by  the  poor  women  in  this  part  of  the  country, 
but  they  do  not  get  much  money  by  it.  Near  some  of  these 
cottages  we  meet  three  or  four  little  girls,  coarsely  but  neatly 
dressed,  who  are  coming  home  from  school.  We  are  amused  to 
see  them  form  into  line,  and  each  drop  us  a  little  bob  of  a  courtesy, 
the  motion  being  very  much  like  that  of  a  fishing-cork  when  a 
big  perch  has  just  given  the  line  a  pull.  As  a  rule,  however, 
the  country  people  we  meet  take  little  notice  of  us,  one  way  or 
another, 

English  people,  rich  and  poor,  are  very  fond  of  flowers,  and 
nearly  every  cottage  has  its  little  garden  full  of  blooming  plants 
and  shrubs.  It  is  true  that  many  of  the  flowers  are  of  very  old- 
fashioned  and  common  kinds,  but  they  are  none  the  less  pretty 
for  that. 

On  another  day  we  will  drive  to  Wendover,  which  is  a  very 
interesting  and  pretty  village,  full  of  Queen  Anne  cottages.  There 
are  plenty  of  cottages  of  this  style  around  the  suburbs  of  our  large 
cities  ;  but  those  we  see  here  were  built  In  Queen  Anne's  time, 
and  I  doubt  if  the  village  has  changed  very  much  since  the  days 
of  that  good  lady.  If  we  happen  to  want  any  postage-stamps,  or 
some  pens  and  paper,  it  will  be  well  for  us  to  go  into  a  little  shop, 
which  is  also  the  post-office,  and  see  what  a  queer  place  an  English 
country  shop  may  be,  with  its  low  ceiling,  its  woodwork  darkened 
by  time,  its  little  windows,  and  the  neat  old  woman  with  white  cap 
and  apron  who  waits  on  us. 

When  we  have  driven  and  walked  as  much  as  we  please  through 
this  beautiful  county  of  Bucks,  we  shall  have  a  good  idea  of  Eng- 
lish country  life  where  the  influence  of  railroads  and  cities  is  little 
felt.  But  we  could  go  into  other  country  places,  and  find  scenes 
and  people  very  different  from  those  among  which  we  have  been. 
Although   England   is  so  small,  there  is  much  variety  in  her  land- 


198  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


scape  and  country,  as  well  as  in  the  manners  and  customs  of  the 
people. 

We  shall  visit  various  places  of  interest  in  England,  but  I  can 
speak  of  but  one  of  them  now.  This  is  Warwick  Castle  (here 
pronounced  Worrick),  which  once  belonged  to  the  famous  Earl  of 
Warwick,  the  "  king-maker."  As  the  family  is  away  (nearly  all 
great  country  families  are  in  London  at  this  season  of  the  year), 
we  can  visit  this  celebrated  castle  and  get  an  idea  of  hio;h  life  in 
the  English  country,  both  as  it  is  to-day  and  as  it  was  in  the 
Middle  Acres. 

This  immense  buildino-  is  the  finest  feudal  castle  now  remainine 
in  England.  It  stands  upon  a  high  rocky  bluff  overlooking  the 
River  Avon  ;  and  when  we  have  walked  up  through  the  grounds, 
we  see  before  us  the  huge  battlements  and  towers  of  a  real  baro- 
nial castle.  On  one  side  of  the  entrance  is  Caesar's  Tower,  which 
dates  back  to  the  Norman  Conquest  ;  on  the  other  side  is  Guy's 
Tower,  a  fortress  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  high,  with  walls  ten 
feet  thick.  Between  these  is  the  arched  gateway,  with  an  ancient 
portcullis  armed  with  spikes,  which,  by  the  orders  of  the  present 
earl,  who  likes  to  keep  up  everything  in  the  olden  fashion,  is  let 
down  and  bolted  every  night.  The  inner  court  is  a  wide,  grassy 
square,  surrounded  by  the  towers  and  buildings  of  the  castle. 

We  first  enter  the  great  hall,  which  is  large  and  lofty  enough 
for  a  church.  All  around  the  walls  we  see  spears,  battle-axes,  and 
other  weapons  belonging  to  the  ancient  earls,  some  of  them  once 
used  by  the  great  Guy  of  Warwick,  who  lived  in  the  tenth  century, 
and  who  is  said  to  have  been  nearly  eight  feet  high.  In  this  hall 
is  an  immense  iron  pot,  which  is  called  Guy's  punch-bowl.  Erom 
this  room  we  look,  for  a  distance  of  three  hundred  feet,  through  a 
line  of  splendid  apartments.  These  rooms,  called  the  red  drawing- 
room,  the  gilt  drawing-room,  and  so  on,  are  furnished  in  the  most 


IN  ENGLISH  COUNTRY.  1 99 


costly    and    magnificent    manner,    many   of    the    tables   and   other 
furniture  being  lavishly  inlaid  with  silver  and  valuable  stones. 

Farther  on  we  come  to  the  state  bedroom,  which  was  once 
used  by  Queen  Anne,  and  among  the  other  interesting  things  in 
the  room  we  see  the  queen's  trunk,  which,  although  a  very  large 
and  fine  one  for  those  days,  is  as  different  in  weight  and  strength 
from  our  trunks  as  one  of  our  houses  is  from  one  of  her  fortresses. 
All  these  rooms  contain  valuable  paintings  by  old  and  modern 
artists,  besides  works  of  art  in  bronze  and  marble  ;  and  when  we 
reach  the  corner  room,  and  look  out  of  the  window,  we  find  we  are 
almost  level  with  the  top  of  a  great  cedar  of  Lebanon  which  is 
growing  on  the  river-bank  beneath  us.  We  shall  want  to  stop 
in  the  armory,  which  is  a  long  passage,  crowded  on  each  side  with 
weapons  of  many  kinds — battle-axes,  swords,  spears,  daggers,  old- 
fashioned  flint-lock  guns,  bows  and  arrows,  and  some  arms  of  a 
more  modern  date.  After  passing  through  some  other  fine  rooms, 
we  go  out  again  into  the  courts,  where  a  great  peacock  is  walking 
about  on  the  grass,  looking  as  proud  as  if  he  were  one  of  the 
armed  knights  who  with  squires  and  pages  were  so  often  seen  there 
in  days  gone  by. 

The  town  of  Warwick  is  very  interesting  in  itself,  and  when 
we  enter  it  from  the  west  it  is  by  a  gate  which  leads  us  directly 
through  an  old  church-tower. 

A  most  interesting  place  is  the  old  Leicester  Hospital,  which 
was  founded  by  that  Robert  Dudley  whom  Queen  Elizabeth  made 
Earl  of  Leicester,  and  who  will  be  well  remembered  by  every  one 
who  has  read  Scott's  novel  "  Kenil worth."  It  was  one  of  his  few 
good  deeds.  This  hospital  supports  twelve  old  soldiers  and  their 
wives.  It  is  a  beautifully  picturesque  group  of  old  half-timber 
buildings,  in  excellent  preservation,  and  is  now  very  much  what  it 
was  in  the  sixteenth  century.     In   the   kitchen,  which   is  the  com- 


200  PERSOXALLY  CONDUCTED. 

mon  sitting-room,   hangs  a  piece  of  embroidery  worked, by  Amy 
Robsart. 

English  country  Hfe  in  grand  castles,  and  in  the  mansions  of 
the  aristocracy  and  the  upper  classes,  is  very  different  from  what 
we  have  seen.  It  is,  in  fact,  more  stately,  more  luxurious,  and 
more  costly  than  life  in  town.  The  great  houses  are  filled  with 
visitors  during  the  country  season,  and  hospitality  is  generally 
extended  on  a  magnificent  scale,  with  the  finest  cooks,  fashionable 
hours  for  meals,  and  all  sorts  of  entertainments.  The  life  we  have 
been  leading  is  simply  that  of  well-to-do  people  in  rural  England. 


XI. 


THE    LOW    COUNTRIES    AND    THE    RHINE. 

WE  are  now  about  to  make  an  excursion  from  London,  which 
will  be  quite  an  extensive  one,  embracing  Holland,  and 
Belgium,  and  a  part  of  Germany.  As  this  is  to  be  what 
is  called  a  round  trip,  in  which  we  shall  not  stop  very  long  in  any 
one  place,  we  will  take  with  us  only  valises,  or  such  baggage  as  we 
can  carry  in  our  hands.  We  leave  London  about  eight  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  and  go  by  train  to  Harwich  (pronounced  Harridge). 
If  we  were  to  make  a  journey  at  this  hour  in  America  we  should 
not  see  much  of  the  country  ;  but  in  England  the  twilight  lasts  a 
long  time,  and  in  this  season  of  early  summer  one  can  see  to  read 
in  the  open  air  at  nine  o'clock,  and  it  is  not  really  dark  for  an  hour 
afterward,  so  that  we  can  see  as  much  of  the  rural  scenery  of  the 
county  of  Essex  as  we  choose  to  look  at.  At  Harwich  our  train 
takes  us  directly  to  the  steamship  landing,  and  there  we  find  a 
vessel  ready  to  sail  for  Antwerp,  and  another  for  Rotterdam,  and 
our  tickets  allow  us  to  go  by  either  way  and  come  back  by  the 
other.  We  choose  to  visit  Holland  first,  and  so  go  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  signboard  painted  Rotterdam,  and  take  the  steamer  for 
that  place.  Our  trip  across  the  German  Ocean  will  probably  be  a 
pleasant  one,  for  these  waters  are  generally  smooth  at  this  season, 
and  we  shall  go  to  our  berths  soon  after  we  start,  and,  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  sleep  soundly  all  the  night. 

When  we  wake  in  the  morning  we  find  ourselves  in  the  river 
Maas,  on  which  the  city  of  Rotterdam  is  situated.      On  each  side 


502  PEkSONALLT  CONDUCTED. 

of  us  lies  the  queer  country  of  Holland,  and  the  views  we  have 
are  unlike  any  we  have  ever  seen  before,  or  are  likely  to  see  again 
except  in  this  same  country  of  the  Dutch.  The  land  is  flat,  and 
would  be  uninteresting,  except  for  the  fact  that  it  is  lower  than 
the  surface  of  the  river  on  which  we  are  sailing.  There  must  be 
an  interest  attached  to  this  country  when  we  consider  that  if  the 
great  dykes,  or  banks,  on  each  side  of  the  river  were  broken  down, 
even  for  a  comparatively  short  distance,  the  whole  land  would  soon 
be  covered  with  water,  and  become  a  part  of  the  German  Ocean. 
The  people  of  Holland  are  always  on  their  guard  to  keep  out  that 
ocean,  and  if  ever  there  is  danger  from  storms,  or  unusual  tides, 
the  alarm-bells  are  rung,  and  men  and  women  flock  out  by  day  or 
night  to  help  mend  any  breach  that  may  be  made  by  the  water. 
This  German  Ocean,  or  North  Sea,  backed  up  by  its  allies,  the 
Arctic  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  is  an  enemy  which  is  continually 
laying  siege  to  Holland.  If  it  should  ever  destroy  the  strong  for- 
tifications which  she  has  thrown  up  to  defend  herself,  good-by  to 
the  populous,  fertile,  and  rich  land  of  the  Dutch  ! 

We  sail  on  for  several  hours,  passing  a  little  fortified  town 
where  the  custom-house  of^cers  come  on  board  to  examine  our 
baggage,  and  every  now  and  then  we  see  small  houses,  and  some- 
times villages,  not  far  from  the  river.  After  a  time  we  notice  a 
town  some  distance  back,  which  seems  to  be  a  great  manufacturing 
place,  judging  from  the  smoke  above  it.  This  is  Schiedam,  where 
the  inhabitants  devote  themselves  principally  to  making  gin.  The 
town  is  a  small  one,  but  it  contains  about  two  hundred  distilleries, 
and  it  gets  very  rich  by  supplying  the  whole  world  with  Holland 
gin.  Everywhere,  scattered  about  the  country,  we  have  seen  wind- 
mills, their  great  arms  moving  slowly  around.  Rut  of  these  Schie- 
dam seems  to  have  more  than  its  share,  for  around  about  this  town 
we  can  count  at  least  sixty  of  them.      After  steaming  for  several 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES  AND   THE  RHINE. 


203 


hours  over  this  smooth  river  and  between  these  flat  lowlands,  we 
reach  the  city 
of  Rotterdam, 
where  our 
steamer  stops. 
We  shall 
not  make  a 
long  stay  at 
Rotterdam, 
but  in  a  few 
hours  we  can 
see  a  great 
deal  that  is 
novel  and 
curious.  The 
quays,     which 


stretch  for 
more  than  a 
mile  along 
the  river,  are 
busy  and 
lively  places, 
for  Rotter- 
dam  does  a 
great  trade 
with  the  East 
and  other 
parts  of  the 
world,    and 

A   DUTCH   WINDMILL. 

from    here 

most  of  the  Dutch  emigrants  start  for  America.      The  houses  are 


204  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

extremely  clean  and  neat,  many  of  them  four  and  five  stories  high, 
and  most  of  them  so  constructed  that  the  lower  stories  can  be  shut 
up  and  made  water-tight  in  case  the  river  should  break  through 
the  dykes.  There  are  so  many  canals  in  this  city,  that  Rotterdam 
has  been  called  '' a  vulgar  Venice."  These  canals  are  crossed  by 
a  great  many  drawbridges,  and  in  some  of  our  walks  we  may  have 
to  wait  while  a  ship  or  barge  is  passing.  On  some  canals  these 
vessels  are  obliged  to  pay  toll,  and  we  shall  be  amused  to  see  how 
this  is  collected.  The  toll-man  stands  on  the  bridge  with  a  pole 
and  a  line,  to  the  end  of  which  a  little  bag  is  attached.  This  he 
holds  as  if  he  were  fishing,  and  lowers  the  bag  to  the  people  in  the 
boat,  who  put  their  money  into  it. 

From  Rotterdam  we  will  go  by  the  railroad  to  The  Hague, 
which  is  the  capital  of  Holland,  and  on  the  way  we  pass  Delft,  a 
town  once  famous  for  its  pottery,  and  which  is  interesting  to  Amer- 
icans from  the  fact  that  it  is  the  place  from  which  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers  started  on  the  voyage  which  ended  at  Plymouth  Rock. 
And  here  we  find  that  even  in  Holland  we  cannot  eet  rid  of  the 
ancient  Romans.  From  Delft  to  The  Hague  there  is  a  canal 
which  was  made  by  that  everywhere-turning-up  people.  The 
Hague  is  a  large  and  handsome  city,  but  we  shall  be  most  inter- 
ested in  its  museum,  where  there  is  a  very  fine  art  gallery.  Here 
we  see  paintings  principally  by  the  great  Dutch  and  Flemish  mas- 
ters, among  which  are  some  of  the  finest  works  of  Rembrandt,  and 
of  David  Teniers,  Wouverman,  and  other  celebrated  painters. 

We  now  go  by  rail  to  Amsterdam,  which  is  the  largest  city  of 
Holland,  and  where  we  shall  make  our  longest  stay.  One  reason 
why  we  shall  not  do  much  lingering  in  Holland  is  that  it  is  a  very 
expensive  country  for  travellers,  and  when  we  compare  what  we 
are  here  charged  at  hotels  and  other  places  with  the  exceedingly 
reasonable  prices  of  Italy  and  Switzerland,  we  feel  inclined  to  see 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES  AND   THE  RHINE.  205 


all  there  is  to  see,  and  get  on  to  some  country  where  the  land  is 
not  so  low  and  the  charges  are  not  so  high. 

Amsterdam  is  a  city  of  canals,  and  yet  we  are  not  constantly 
impressed  that  it  is  a  water  city,  as  we  are  in  Venice.  The  town 
lies  at  the  end  of  the  Y,  which  is  a  gulf  of  the  Zuyder  Zee  ;  and 
there  are  several  great  canals,  shaped  like  the  segments  of  concen- 
tric circles,  intersected  by  some  three  hundred  smaller  canals  ;  and 
yet  there  are  so  many  streets  and  squares,  and  places  where  we 
can  drive  about  as  freely  as  in  any  other  city,  that  there  really 
is  little  comparison  between  Amsterdam  and  the  horseless  city  of 
the  Adriatic.  Most  of  the  houses  are  very  tall,  very  narrow,  and 
stand  with  their  gable-ends  to  the  street.  These  gables  are  gen- 
erally built  in  an  ornamental  form,  and  present  a  very  odd  and 
varied  appearance.  At  the  top  of  nearly  every  house  we  see  a 
projecting  beam,  with  a  rope  and  tackle,  by  which  heavy  goods, 
marketing,  fuel,  and  such  household  commodities  are  drawn  up 
from  the  street  or  canal  below  to  the  various  floors.  This  saves  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  in  getting  up-stairs. 

As  we  walk  or  drive  about  we  shall  not  be  likely  to  forget  that 
this  is  a  Dutch  town.  The  front  doors  of  the  houses,  some  of 
which  are  approached  by  little  flights  of  steps  that  run  up  side- 
ways, while  others  are  so  low  that  they  look  as  if  part  of  the  door 
was  below  the  street,  have  such  bright  brass  plates  and  knobs,  and 
everything  looks  so  clean  and  fresh,  that  I  should  not  be  sur- 
prised to  be  told  that  the  lower  part  of  every  house-front  was 
washed  and  polished  every  day  ;  and  if  we  should  see,  standing 
in  the  doorway,  a  Dutch  maid-servant,  she  would  very  likely  be 
as  clean  and  bright  and  fresh  as  the  houses,  which  is  saying  a 
great  deal.  On  many  of  the  doors  of  private  dwellings  we  see 
the  names  of  the  occupants  painted  in  good  large  letters,  and 
this  shows   that  when   Dutch  people  go  into  a  house  they  expect 


2o6 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


to  stay  there,  and  do  not  move  about  as  much  as  the  inhabitants 
of  that  city  they  founded  on  Manhattan  Island. 

There  are  over  three  hundred  thousand  people  here,  and  we 

see  a  great 
many  of  them 
both  in  the 
streets  and  on 
the  canals. 
There  is 
nothing  very 
striking  in 
the  dress  of 
the  working- 
men,  but  some 
of  the  women 
are  curiously 
attired,  espe- 
cially those  who 
come  in  from  the 
country.  The  women 
of  the  different  prov- 
inces are  known  by 
their  head-dresses, 
and  some  of  these  appear  as  if 
the  originators  of  them  had  puz- 
zled their  brains  to  see  what 
queer  and  fantastic  head-gear 
they  could  devise.  Golden  or- 
naments and  plates  are  very  frequently  seen,  some  with  spiral 
twists  in  front  like  golden  curls.  These  adornments,  witli  heavy 
silver    or   golden    earrings,    are    often     the     principal     part    of    a 


SW.TtAC 


A   HOUSE   ON   THE   DUNES. 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES  AND   THE  RHINE.  207 

woman's  property,  and  descend  from  mother  to  daughter  for  gen- 
erations. 

There  is  a  large  park  here,  where  we  may  meet  the  Dutch 
aristocracy,  who  are  very  'fine-looking  people,  driving  about  in 
their  handsome  carriages.  On  a  street  near  by  is  a  very  curious 
house  which  we  must  visit.  It  is  built  and  furnished  in  the  fashion 
of  an  old  Dutch  house  of  two  or  three  centuries  asfo.  It  is  full  of 
all  sorts  of  old  furniture,  coins,  books,  and  other  interesting  relics  of 
olden  times.  There  is  a  bedroom,  furnished  in  a  queer  ancient  style, 
with  old-fashioned  clothes,  and  so  on,  hanging  about,  and  a  queer 
cradle  with  the  cap  and  socks  of  a  baby  whose  great-grandchildren 
probably  died  of  old  age  long  ago.  Down  in  the  kitchen,  the  walls 
of  which  are  hung  with  all  sorts  of  pots,  pans,  and  other  utensils, 
while  cheese-presses,  scales,  and  such  things  stand  on  the  polished 
floor,  we  see  a  woman  dressed  in  the  olden  fashion  of  a  cook.  She 
wears  a  great  gold  plate  on  the  back  of  her  head,  which  makes 
her  look  as  if  a  piece  of  her  skull  had  been  taken  out  and  this  set 
in  its  place. 

One  of  the  ofreat  industries  of  Amsterdam  is  the  cuttinQf  and 
polishing  of  diamonds  ;  and  nearly  all  the  finest  diamonds  in  the 
world  are  brought  here  to  be  cut  into  shape.  We  will  make  a  visit 
to  one  of  the  principal  diamond  establishments,  and  when  we  get 
there  I  think  we  shall  be  surprised  to  find  a  great  factory,  four  or 
five  stories  high,  a  steam-engine  in  the  basement,  and  fly-wheels, 
and  leather  bands,  and  all  sorts  of  whirring  machinery  in  the  differ- 
ent stories.  On  the  very  top  floor  the  diamonds  are  finished  and 
polished,  and  here  we  see  skilful  workmen  sitting  before  rapidly 
revolving  disks  of  steel,  against  which  the  diamonds  are  pressed 
and  polished.  It  requires  great  skill,  time,  and  patience  before  one 
of  these  valuable  gems  is  got  into  that  shape  in  which  it  will  best 
shine,  sparkle,  and  show  its  purity.      Nearly  half  the  diamonds  pro- 


2o8  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

duced  in  the  world,  the  best  of  which  come  from  Brazil,  are  sent  to 
this  factory  to  be  cut  and  polished.  Here  the  great  Koh-i-noor 
was  cut ;  and  we  are  shown  models  of  that  and  of  other  famous 
diamonds  that  were  cut  in  these  rooms. 

From  Amsterdam  we  go  by  rail  to  Cologne,  a  short  day's  journey. 
For  the  first  few  hours  the  view  is  such  as  we  may  see  nearly  all 
over  Holland:  broad  flat  fields  without  fences,  but  divided  by  ditches 
and  canals,  stretch  in  every  direction.  Most  of  these  are  pasture 
lands,  on  which  great  numbers  of  fine  cattle  are  grazing.  These 
cows,  which  are  all  either  black  or  white,  or  partly  black  and  partly 
white,  belong  to  a  breed  of  great  milkers,  and  they  look  in  excel- 
lent condition.  Some  of  them,  which  probably  have  slight  colds, 
are  nearly  covered  with  cloth  or  canvas  securely  fastened  around 
them.  Portions  of  the  land  are  cultivated,  and  look  very  dark  and 
rich.  Many  of  these  fields  have  been  reclaimed  from  the  water 
which  used  to  cover  this  part  of  the  country.  The  cottages  and 
farm-houses  are  generally  small,  and  mixed  up  very  closely  with 
cow-stables  and  barns.  Sometimes  we  see  pleasant-looking  villas 
and  residences,  and  nov/  and  then  we  pass  through  towns  and 
villages.  After  a  time  we  come  to  a  part  of  the  country  chiefly 
composed  of  sand-hills,  or  dunes,  where  the  people  have  little  to 
depend  upon  but  the  fir-trees,  the  only  things  that  easily  grow  here. 
When  a  child  is  born,  a  certain  number  of  fir-trees  are  planted, 
which  will  be  its  property  when  it  grows  up. 

At  the  small  town  of  Elton  we  pass  from  Holland  into  Germany, 
and  here  our  baofgfacre  is  examined.  Before  lono-  we  reach  the 
River  Rhine,  which  we  cross  on  a  steam  ferry-boat,  which  is  pro- 
pelled by  a  very  odd  sort  of  a  wire  cable.  The  train  is  run  on 
board  this  boat ;  and  when  we  reach  the  other  side,  a  strong  loco- 
motive comes  down  into  the  shallow  water,  on  rails  which  are  partly 
submerged,  and  pulls  us  up  the  bank.     This  is  not   the  first  time 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES  AND   THE  RHINE. 


209 


we  have  crossed  this  famous  river,  which  flows  into  the  sea  a  httle 
north  of  The  Hague,  but  we  have  heretofore  merely  passed  over 
it  as  if  it  had  been  any  ordinary  stream  crossed  by  a  railroad. 
The  Rhine,  although  quite  broad,  is  not  much  to  look  at  here,  but 


DINING-ROOM   IN   A   DUTCH   HOUSE. 


we  will  wait  and  see  what  we  shall  see  after  a  while.  The  porters 
at  the  German  railroad  stations  are  dressed  in  such  fine  green 
uniforms  that  we  shall  probably  mistake  them  for  some  of  the 
higher  officers  of  the  road  ;  but  when  we  see  the  conductors  and 
station-masters,  who  wear  much  finer  uniforms,  and  who  have  more 
military  airs,  we  shall  get  the  matter  straight  in  our  minds.  The 
14 


2IO  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

railroad  we  are  on  does  not,  as  in  England,  cross  common  roads 
by  bridges  and  tunnels,  but  all  roads  intersecting  it  are  closed  by 
gates,  and  at  every  one  of  these,  and  at  every  little  farm  gate  open- 
ing on  the  railroad,  there  stands  an  official,  who,  as  the  train  passes, 
draws  himself  up  in  military  fashion,  toes  out,  chin  up,  with  a  short 
stick  in  his  hand,  which  he  holds  as  he  would  a  gun.  No  one  can 
cross  one  of  these  railroads  when  a  train  is  due. 

Cologne  is  chiefly  interesting  to  visitors  on  account  of  its 
Cathedral  and  its  Cologne  water.  To  see  the  one  and  to  buy 
some  of  the  other  are  the  two  great  objects  of  travellers  here. 
But,  apart  from  these  principal  attractions,  we  shall  find  the  city 
very  interesting.  Most  of  the  streets  are  queer  and  old,  some  of 
the  houses  dating  from  the  thirteenth  century  ;  and  the  Rhine, 
which  is  here  crossed  by  a  long  bridge  of  boats,  presents  a  very  busy 
and  lively  scene  with  its  craft  of  many  kinds.  As  soon  as  we  can 
we  will  go  to  the  Cathedral,  which  is  the  grandest  Gothic  church  in 
the  world.  It  was  begun  in  1248,  but  was  not  finished  until  1880. 
It  has  two  immense  and  beautiful  spires,  over  five  hundred  feet 
high,  and  nearly  the  whole  outside  is  covered  with  lovely  archi- 
tectural ornamentation  and  sculptures.  Inside  the  immense  build- 
ing is  wonderfully  beautiful  and  imposing.  Light  comes  through 
ereat  stained-elass  windows  on  either  side,  and  from  others,  also 
charmingly  colored,  high  up  near  the  arches  of  the  roof.  There 
is  a  great  deal  to  be  seen  in  the  chapels  and  other  portions  of  this 
church.  In  the  reliquary  are  kept  the  "three  kings  of  Cologne," 
which  are  believed  to  be  the  bones  of  the  Ma<^i  who  came  to  do 
reverence  to  the  Infant  Jesus.  These  were  taken  from  Jerusalem 
by  the  Empress  Helena,  and  presented  to  the  Cathedral  by  the 
Emperor  Barbarossa  in  1164.  We  may  look  through  some  open- 
work in  the  sarcophagus,  and  see  the  three  heads,  or  skulls,  of 
the  kincjs,  each  wearingf  a  grolden  crown. 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES  AND   THE  RHINE. 


21 1 


The  real  Cologne  water  is  made  by  Johann  Maria  Farina,  but 
when  we  go  out  to  buy  some,  we  may  be  a  little  perplexed  by  find- 
ing that  there  are  some  thirty  or  forty  people  of  this  name,  all  of 


THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  COLOGNE. 


whom  keep  shops  for  the  sale  of  Cologne  water.  There  are  a  great 
many  descendants  of  the  original  inventor  of  this  perfume,  and 
the  law  does  not  permit  anyone  to  assume  the  name  who  does  not 
belong  to  the  family  ;  but  the  boy  babies  of  the  Farinas  are  gener- 
ally baptized  Johann  Maria,  so  that  they  can  go  into  the  Cologne 


212  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

water  business  when  they  grow  up.  There  are  two  or  three  shops 
where  the  best  and  "  original  "  water  is  sold,  and  at  one  of  these 
we  buy  some  of  the  celebrated  perfume,  generally  sold  to  travellers 
in  small  wooden  boxes  containintr  four  or  six  bottles,  which  we  eet 
at  a  very  reasonable  price  compared  with  what  we  have  to  pay  for 
it  in  America.  We  cannot  take  much  more  than  this,  because 
Cologne  water  is  classed  as  spirits  by  the  custom-house  authorities 
in  England,  and  each  traveller  is  allowed  to  bring  only  a  small 
quantity  of  it  into  that  country. 

The  most  beautiful  part  of  the  celebrated  and  romantic  River 
Rhine  lies  between  Bonn,  not  far  above  Cologne,  and  the  little 
town  of  Bingen  ;  and  to  see  this  world-famed  river  at  its  best,  we 
must  make  a  trip  upon  it  on  a  steamboat.  It  takes  much  longer 
to  go  up  the  river  than  to  come  down  with  the  current  ;  and  so  we 
go  to  Bingen  by  rail,  stay  there  all  night,  and  make  our  Rhine 
voyage  the  next  day. 

"  Fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine,"  of  which  most  of  us  have  read  in 
Mrs.  Norton's  poem  about  "the  soldier  of  the  Legion"  who  "lay 
dying  at  Algiers,"  is  a  very  pretty  little  town  on  the  river  bank, 
nearly  opposite  the  Nicderwald,  a  low  mountain,  on  the  side  of 
which  stands  the  immense  monumental  statue  of  Germania.  This 
great  monument  was  recently  erected  in  commemoration  of  the 
unity  of  the  German  Empire.  If  we  choose,  we  can  cross  the  river, 
go  up  the  mountain,  and  inspect  this  monument;  but  we  get  a  very 
good  view  of  it  from  where  we  are. 

The  next  morning  we  go  on  board  a  large  and  handsome  steam- 
boat, and  begin  a  river  trip  which  has  been  more  talked  about, 
written  about,  and  sung  about,  than  any  other  in  the  world. 

The  portion  of  the  Rhine,  about  a  hundred  miles  in  length, 
over  which  we  shall  pass  to-day,  lies  between  low  hills  and  moun- 
tains, some  of  which  are  precipitous  and  rocky,  some  gently  sloping 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES  AND    THE  RHINE. 


213 


down  into  the  water,  the  sides  of  nearly  all  of  them  planted  in  vine- 
yards, varied  by  verdant  pasture  lands,  trees,  and  picturesque  bits 
of  forest.     Sometimes  the  mountains  recede  from  the  shore,  leaving 


town  or 
1  a  g  e  ,  and 
sometimes  the 
houses  seem 
as  well  satis- 
fied   upon    the    hill-  ''^°^' ^  %' ^'Wfim!^^^'^^''- 

•1  11        1  ^i^B.-^4\\l 

side  as  on  the  level 

ground.      High  up, 

on  projecting  bluffs, 

and  occasionally  on   the   very   mountain-tops,   stand   the   ruins  of 

great  castles  of  the  olden  times.     Some  of  these  consist  of  but  a 

few   storm-battered    towers  and    walls ;  while   others,    which    have 


THE  CASTLE   OF   RHEINSTEIN. 


214  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

successfully  defied  man,  time,  and  storms,  are  still  in  such  good 
condition  as  to  be  inhabited.  These  were  the  castles  and  strong- 
holds of  the  feudal'  barons  and  the  robber  chiefs  of  history,  song, 
and  legend  ;  and  they  give  to  the  natural  beauties  of  the  Rhine  a 
charm  which  is  not  possessed  by  any  other  river.  As  our  boat 
goes  on  over  the  swiftly-flowing  stream,  stopping  at  many  points, 
every  turn  of  the  river  shows  us  some  new  combination  of  land- 
scape, and  some  different  beauty. 

Soon  after  beginning  our  trip  we  pass,  upon  a  little  island  in 
the  river,  an  ancient  stone  tower,  which  is  called  the  Mouse 
Tower.  There  is  an  old  story  connected  with  this  tower,  about 
a  certain  bishop  who,  long  ago,  for  his  cruelty  to  his  people  in 
time  of  famine,  was  devoured  here  by  hordes  of  rats  or  mice. 
Not  far  away,  and  high  above  us,  stand  the  ruins  of  the  tower 
of  Ehrenfels,  built  in  1210.  Very  soon  we  see  the  grand  Castle 
of  Rheinstein,  whose  towers  and  turrets  and  walls,  some  of  which 
have  been  restored,  stand  as  they  stood  six  hundred  years  ago. 
A  great  iron  basket,  or  brazier,  once  used  as  a  beacon-light,  still 
hangs  from  the  outer  walls,  three  hundred  feet  above  the  river. 
Further  on  is  the  Castle  of  Falkenbero-,  once  famous  as  the  home 
of  the  robber  knights.  The  towns  of  the  Rhine  united  against 
these  much-feared  marauders,  and  nearly  destroyed  their  castle 
in  1 25 1,  but  they  went  back  again,  and  the  place  was  afterward 
captured  by  Rudolph  of  Hapsburg,  who  hung  the  robber  knights 
from  the  windows. 

We  are  now  passing  regions  of  vineyard,  where  some  of  the 
most  famous  wines  of  the  world  are  produced,  and,  although  we 
may  be  astonished  to  see  on  what  steep  hills  and  mountain-sides 
the  vines  are  growing,  we  would  have  been  still  more  surprised  if 
we  could  have  seen  the  manner  in  which  some  of  these  vineyards 
were   made.      Many  of  them  are  on  high,  rocky  terraces,  to  which 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES  AND   THE  RHINE.  215 

the  earth  has  been  laboriously  carried  in  baskets  on  the  backs  of 
men  and  women.  Some  of  these  vineyards  are  so  steep  that  it 
would  seem  that  the  vine-growers  must  stand  upon  ladders  in 
order  to  hoe  and  cultivate  the  ground,  and  in  some  places  we  may 
think  it  even  impossible  for  the  laborers  to  stick  to  their  work. 
The  vines  are  so  carefully  pruned,  that  they  do  not  conceal  the 
tilled  ground,  and  the  mountains  and  hillsides  would  be  much 
prettier  in  grass,  forest,  and  beetling  crags  than  in  vineyards  ;  but 
the  wine  from  this  region  is  so  valuable  that  if  the  vines  could  be 
made  to  grow  everywhere,  all  the  land  we  see  would  be  covered 
with  vineyards. 

We  soon  pass  one  of  the  oldest  castles  on  the  Rhine  ;  it  was 
built  In  1015.  It  has  gone  through  a  great  many  troubles,  but  has 
recently  been  put  into  good  order,  and  Is  one  of  the  country  resi- 
dences of  the  royal  family  of  Prussia. 

On  we  go,  sometimes  passing  little  towns,  one  of  which,  Lorch, 
has  been  mentioned  In  history  for  more  than  a  thousand  years  ; 
more  castles  appear  on  the  cliffs,  among  them  NoUingen,  standing 
nearly  six  hundred  feet  above  us,  at  the  summit  of  a  jagged  cliff 
called  "The  Devil's  Ladder,"  up  which,  the  legends  say,  a  brave 
knight  rode  on  his  gallant  steed  to  rescue  a  lady  from  the  gnomes 
of  the  mountain.  Now  and  then  we  pass  an  island,  on  one  of 
which  stands  a  strangely  fortified  little  castle,  and  after  a  time 
we  come  to  the  famous  "  Rocks  of  Lurlei,"  which  rise  to  a  great 
height  above  a  swift  and  dangerous  whirlpool.  Here,  the  stories 
tell  us,  a  siren  used  to  sit  and  sing  songs  to  passing  voyagers,  who, 
when  they  stopped  to  listen  to  her,  were  drawn  into  the  whirl- 
pool. As  there  is  no  danger  of  the  captain  of  our  steamboat  stop- 
ping for  any  such  tomfoolery,  not  even  the  youngest  of  us  need  be 
afraid  at  passing  this  grewsome  place. 

Near  the  town  of  St.  Goar  stands  the  immense  Castle  of  Rhein- 


2l6  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

fels,  the  largest  on  the  Rhine,  and  it  presents  a  grand  and  imposing 
appearance,  ahhough  it  is  much  in  ruins,  having  had  hard  times  in 
many  wars. 

More  castles  now  come  in  sight,  more  mountains,  more  vine- 
yards, and  more  little  villages,  two  of  them  particularly  picturesque, 
being  united  by  a  long  double  row  of  trees.  Flourishing  towns, 
too,  we  pass,  some  of  them  quite  busy  places  ;  and,  after  a  time, 
we  see  the  gloomy  old  Castle  of  Marksburg,  fuller  of  dungeons 
and  secret  chambers  and  dark  passages  than  any  other  here  ;  and 
it  looks  gloomier  yet  when  we  know  that  it  is  still  used  as  a 
prison. 

We  now  reach  Coblentz,  a  large  and  important  old  town,  oppo- 
site which  is  the  vast  fortress  of  Ehrenbreitstein,  which  is  one  of 
the  largest  and  strongest  in  Europe,  and  is  called  "  The  Gibraltar 
of  the  Rhine."  It  has  stood  there  for  centuries,  and  has  sustained 
many  blockades  and  sieges.  It  is  now  greatly  improved,  and  is 
occupied  by  soldiers  of  the  German  Empire. 

Neuendorf  is  a  little  town,  from  which  start  the  great  rafts  of 
the  Rhine.  These  rafts  are  made  up  of  smaller  ones,  which  come 
down  from  the  timber  regions  along  the  river,  and  are  of  extraor- 
dinary size,  being  sometimes  six  hundred  feet  long,  and  two  hun- 
dred wide,  or  as  large  as  an  up-town  New  York  block.  They  carry 
a  ereat  number  of  men,  with  their  wives  and  children,  who  live  in 
little  houses  built  on  the  rafts.  They  are  steered  by  very  long 
oars,  each  held  by  a  crowd  of  men  ;  and  these  floating  islands,  with 
the  scenes  on  them,  will  be  sure  to  interest  us. 

The  castles  now  become  fewer,  although  we  see  some  very  fine 
ruins,  and  one  new  and  very  large  and  handsome  cr.stle.  The 
scenery  changes  somewhat,  and  at  one  place  there  is  a  wide  stretch 
of  level  country.  The  village  of  Remagen  will  be  interesting 
because  near  it  is  the  spring  from  which  comes  the  famous  Apolli- 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES   AND   THE  RHINE. 


217 


naris  water.  The  little  town  is  very  busy,  and  boxes  and  bottles 
abound.  Near  by,  on  a  height,  is  a  most  beautiful  little  Gothic 
church,  built  by  the  architect  who  finished  Cologne  Cathedral. 


THE   FORTRESS   OF   EHRENBREITSTEIN. 


We  also  pass  a  point  where  Julius  Caesar,  when  he  was  at  work 
conquering  this  part  of  the  world,  built  the  first  bridge  across  the 
Rhine.  And  in  this  connection  I  may  say,  that  the  business  of 
vine-growing  on  this  river  was  started  by  the  ancient  Romans. 


2l8  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

We  now  pass  the  Drachenfels,  or  Dragon's  Rock,  and  enter 
the  region  of  the  beautiful  Seven  Mountains  ;  and  when  we  reach 
the  town  of  Bonn,  we  have  gone  over  the  most  interesting  and 
picturesque  part  of  tlie  river.  Here  we  leave  the  steamboat,  and 
take  rail  for  Cologne,  after  a  day  on  the  Rhine,  which  I  am  sure 
none  of  us  will  ever  forget. 

The  next  day  we  take  the  railroad  for  Brussels,  and  on  the  way 
pass  through  some  very  picturesque  portions  of  Belgium,  and  at 
one  point  we  are  not  very  far  from  the  battle-field  of  Waterloo. 
Many  persons  visit  this  place  to  inspect  the  various  monuments 
erected  there  ;  but,  besides  these,  there  is  nothing  to  indicate  that 
on  these  now  peaceful  fields  one  of  the  greatest  battles  of  the  world 
was  fought. 

We  find  Brussels  a  cheerful,  busy,  and  very  handsome  small- 
sized  city,  something  like  a  condensed  Paris.  Many  of  the  streets 
are  wide  and  imposing,  with  tall  houses  of  very  attractive  and  orna- 
mental architecture;  while  the  shop  windows  are  so  numerous,  and 
so  brightly  and  even  splendidly  filled,  that  we  can  but  think  of  the 
Palais  Royal  and  the  grand  boulevards  of  the  French  capital. 
Everywhere  there  is  an  air  of  gayety,  fashion,  and  costliness.. 
There  are  a  great  many  fine  parks  and  open  places,  and  long 
avenues  for  driving,  lined  with  trees.  One  of  the  public  buildings, 
the  Palais  de  Justice,  built  for  the  courts  of  law,  is  a  grand  and 
magnificent  edifice.  It  cost  twelve  million  dollars,  and  is  one  of 
the  finest  buildings  in  Europe. 

A  small  public  square  is  surrounded  by  a  very  novel  collection 
of  life-size  bronze  statues,  representing  the  various  trades.  Here 
is  the  baker  with  his  loaves,  the  carpenter  with  his  saws  and  ham- 
mers, the  gardener  with  his  spade  and  hoe,  and  nearly  everybody 
who  works  in  Brussels  can  come  here  and  see  a  bronze  personifica- 
tion of  his  trade.      Statues  and  monuments  are  frequent  in  the  city, 


;^^i'fc:i:yn^,ifij 


17^ 


THE    HOTKL    UK    VILLJi   OF    liRUSSKI.S. 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES   AND    THE  RHINE.  221 

and  in  whatever  way  money  could  be    spent   in   malting   Brussels 
beautiful,  it  has  been  spent. 

In  the  Grande  Place,  where  stands  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  or  Town 
Hall,  we  see  some  of  the  fine  buildings  of  olden  times.  The 
Maison  du  Roi,  or  King's  House,  was  built  in  the  early  part  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  and  many  of  the  other  tall  houses  belonged  to 
the  guilds  or  wealthy  trades-unions  of  the  Middle  Ages.  This  open 
square  is  full  of  historical  associations.  Here  tournaments  and 
pageants  were  held,  here  fierce  fights  took  place,  and  here  some 
of  the  heroes  of  Belgium  were  executed.  This  place  is  in  the  old 
part  of  the  city,  and  is  full  of  life,  activity,  and  interest. 

The  "galleries,"  or  long  covered  arcades,  are  full  of  attractive 
shops  and  restaurants: 

Brussels  lace  is  celebrated  all  over  the  world,  and  we  must  not 
fail  to  visit  one  of  the  places  where  this  beautiful  and  costly  lace  is 
made.  Here  we  see  a  number  of  women,  very  quiet,  very  neatly 
dressed,  and  in  some  cases  with  wonderfully  delicate  and  soft- 
looking  hands,  although  they  are  all  plain  working-women.  Each 
is  busy  fashioning  the  delicate  pattern  of  a  piece  of  lace  ;  and  it  is 
said  that  each  woman  has  a  pattern  of  her  own,  which  she  always 
makes,  and  which,  perhaps,  descended  to  her  from  her  mother  and 
grandmother.  Some  of  the  women  are  workinu^  on  cushions,  with 
pins  and  bobbins,  and  some  are  using  needles  and  the  finest  and 
most  delicate  of  thread.  We  are  told  that  this  thread  is  all  made 
by  hand,  and  it  is  so  delicate  that  it  has  to  be  spun  in  damp  cellars, 
because  in  the  dry  upper  air  it  would  break  before  it  is  finished. 
There  are  old  women  in  Brussels  who  have  spent  nearly  all  their 
lives  spinning  in  cellars. 

Brussels  is  a  little  city,  but  it  is  as  bright,  as  handsome,  and 
in  some  respects  as  grand  and  splendid  as  if  it  were  a  large 
one. 


222  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


A  very  different  city  is  Antwerp,  distant  only  about  an  hour's 
journey.  This  old  Flemish  town  has  long  been  a  great  commer- 
cial centre  ;  and,  although  Antwerp  is  very  wealthy  and  very  busy, 
it  has  none  of  the  modern  splendors  of  Brussels,  It  is  old-fash- 
ioned, quaint,  and  queer.  In  the  more  modern  quarter  there  are 
fine  streets  and  avenues,  with  a  park  and  zoological  garden,  yet  it 
is  the  old  quarter  of  Antwerp  which  is  most  attractive  to  visitors. 
Here  the  streets  are  generally  narrow  ;  and  the  tall  houses,  with 
their  towering  gable-ends  so  curiously  notched  and  curved,  stand 
looking  at  one  another,  not  with  a  fresh,  bright  air,  as  if  they  were 
Dutch,  but  with  a  quiet  manner  which  seems  to  say  that  they  have 
grown  gray  standing  there,  and  cannot  be  expected  to  look  bright 
and  fresh. 

Antwerp  lies  on  the  River  Scheldt,  and  its  long  water-front  is 
crowded  with  the  ships  of  every  nation.  Not  only  do  they  crowd 
the  wharves  and  piers,  but  by  means  of  short  canals  they  come  up 
into  large  inland  docks,  where  we  can  see  all  the  different  kinds  of 
ships  that  sail  upon  the  sea.  Everything  in  this  part  of  the  town 
seems  intended  In  some  way  for  sailors,  and  the  number  of  little 
cabarets,  or  inns,  where  the  hardy  seamen  can  get  something  to  eat 
and  drink,  is  indeed  surprising. 

The  low,  heavy  trucks,  on  which  barrels  and  bales  and  all  sorts 
of  merchandise  are  carried  to  and  from  the  ships,  are  drawn  by 
great  Flemish  horses,  very  heavy,  very  strong,  and  very  well  fed 
and  cared  for.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  look  at  these  fine  creatures 
gravely  walking  through  the  streets  with  great  loads  behind  them 
which  they  do  not  seem  to  think  of  at  all.  There  is  another  class 
of  animals  used  for  draught  purposes,  which  will  perhaps  attract 
our  attention  more  than  the  stout  horses.  These  are  the  does 
which  help  to  pull  the  milk-carts  about  the  city.  The  milk  is  in 
bright  brass  cans  and  vessels,  which   are  carried  in  a  light  hand- 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES  AND   THE  RHINE. 


223 


cart  generally   pushed   by  a  vigorous  girl  or  woman.     The   dog 


SKETCHES   IN   ANTWERP. 


is  fastened  underneath,  and,  whether  he  be  big  or  little,  he  pulls 
with  such  a  will  that  he  makes  the  girl  step  along  at  a  lively  pace 


2  24  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


Dogs  are  also  harnessed  to  carts  which  carry  about  vegetables,  ice- 
cream, and  other  wares.  The  ice-cream  carts  are  generally  dressed 
off  in  gay  colors  to  attract  attention. 

The  young  women  of  the  lower  classes  go  about  the  streets 
without  hats  or  bonnets,  no  matter  what  the  weather  may  be,  and 
it  is  very  pleasant  to  see  them,  with  their  neat  dresses,  and  their 
hair  so  smooth  and  tightly  braided.  Some  of  the  older  women 
wear  lace  or  muslin  caps,  with  a  great  flap  on  each  side  like 
elephant  ears. 

The  Cathedral  of  Antwerp  is  a  very  fine  one,  and  is  remark- 
able for  its  beautiful  spir(%  which  is  so  curiously  built  in  a  sort  of 
net-work  of  stone  that  it  has  been  likened  to  a  piece  of  the  lace- 
work  of  the  country.  It  is  difficult  to  get  a  good  idea  of  the  out- 
side of  the  church,  for  houses,  little  and  big,  crowd  around  it  on 
all  sides,  sometimes  squeezing  close  up  to  it,  as  if  standing-room 
were  very  scarce  in  Antwerp.  This  spire  contains  a  famous  chime 
of  bells,  ninety-nine  in  number,  the  largest  of  which  is  such  a  mon- 
ster that  it  takes  sixteen  men  to  ring  it,  while  the  smallest  is  no 
larger  than  a  hand-bell.  These  chimes  are  rung  very  often,  every 
hour,  every  half  hour,  and  every  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  a  little 
ring  between  the  quarters.  The  bells  are  so  harmonious,  and  have 
so  sweet  a  tone,  that  even  if  we  should' stay  at  a  hotel  quite  near 
the  cathedral,  we  should  not  be  disturbed  by  them  ;  and  should  we 
wake  in  the  niofht  and  hear  the  ring-insf  of  those  musical  bells,  we 
would  merely  turn  over  and  dream  the  better  for  it.  The  interior 
of  the  cathedral  is  very  large,  though  rather  plain,  and  contains 
some  remarkable  life-size  statues  carved  in  wood,  and  Rubens's 
greatest  picture,  "  The  Descent  from  the  Cross,"  besides  other 
paintings  by  that  master.  Rubens  belongs  to  Antwerp,  and  the 
citizens  are  very  proud  of  him.  There  is  a  fine  statue  of  him  in 
one   of   the   squares,   and   his    paintings   are  to  be  found   in    every 


THE  LOW  COUNTRIES  AND    THE  RHINE.  225 

church.      In  one  of  the  churches  he  is  buried,  and  the  house  where 
he  hved  still  stands. 

In  an  open  space,  by  the  side  of  the  cathedral,  is  Ouentin 
Matsys's  Well,  with  its  curious  iron-work  cover.  The  artist-black- 
smith is  another  son  of  Antwerp  of  whom  she  is  proud. 

The  Museum,  or  Art  Gallery,  contains  a  very  fine  collection  of 
pictures  by  the  Flemish  school  of  artists,  and  among  them  a  num- 
ber by  Rubens  and  Van  Dyck. 

And  now  we  betake  ourselves  to  the  river-front,  and  embark  on 
a  handsome  English  vessel,  and  steam  away  down  the  broad  River 
Scheldt  to  the  sea.  As  we  look  back  we  shall  see  for  many  miles 
the  tall  and  lace-like  spire  of  the  cathedral  reaching  up  to  the  sky. 
The  river-banks  are  not  very  interesting,  but  we  shall  see  some 
forts  of  a  rather  curious  construction,  and  when  we  reach  Flushing, 
near  the  mouth  of  the  Scheldt,  and  when  we  have  dropped  into  a 
little  boat  the  pilot  who  has  guided  us  through  the  dif^cult  chan- 
nel of  the  river,  we  sail  out  upon  the  German  Ocean  ;  and  early 
the  next  morning  we  are  at  Harwich  again,  whence  we  take  the 
train  for  London,  and  our  round  trip  is  over. 
15 


XII. 


THE    PEOPLE    WE    MEET. 

IN  our  travels  in  the  various  countries  through  which  I  have 
conducted  you,  the  people  we  have  met  have  contributed  very 

much  to  the  interest  of  our  journey.  The  natives  of  these 
countries  attracted  our  attention  because  they  were  French  or 
Italian  or  German  or  Dutch,  and  had  some  national  habits  and 
customs  quite  different  from  our  own  ;  but  in  travelling  about  we 
naturally  saw  a  great  deal  of  other  travellers,  and  the  peculiarities 
of  these  people  were  very  often  odd  and  amusing. 

You  all  remember  that  wherever  we  went  it  seemed  impossible 
to  get  rid  of  memorials  of  the  ancient  Romans,  long  dead  and  gone. 
But  we  could  not  fail  to  notice  that  it  was  equally  impossible  to 
get  rid  of  the  modern  English  and  Americans,  who,  very  much 
alive,  are  to  be  found  wherever  we  cro.  These  two  nations  are 
great  explorers  and  travellers  ;  if  there  is  anything  worth  seeing  in 
any  part  of  the  world,  they  wish  to  go  there  and  see  it.  There  are 
now  so  many  Anglo-Saxon  tourists  on  the  continent  of  Europe  that 
it  has  become  necessary  in  all  good  hotels  to  have  some  person  who 
can  speak  English,  and  it  is  only  in  places  which  are  seldom  visited 
that  we  can  find  no  one  to  whom  we  can  talk  in  our  native  tongue. 
A  German,  Italian,  or  French  waiter,  who  can  speak  English, 
finds  it  much  easier  to  obtain  employment  at  good  wages  than 
those  who  know  only  their  own  language  ;  and  many  Continental 
waiters  and  barbers  go  to  London,  and  serve  there  without  pay, 
for  the  sake  of  becoming  acquainted  with  the  English  language. 

French  used  to  be,  and   is  still,  the  language  most  general  in 


THE  PEOPLE    WE  MEET.  227 


Europe,  and  one  who  speaks  it  readily  can  travel  almost  anywhere, 
and  make  himself  understood  ;  but  in  many  parts  of  Europe  English 
is  now  so  generally  taught  in  the  schools,  that  it  will  not  be  long 
before  our  language  will  be  as  useful  to  travellers  as  the  French. 

Although  the  English  and  we  ourselves  both  speak  the  same 
tongue,  we  do  not  speak  it  in  the  same  way.  An  American  in 
London  can  seldom  say  five  words  before  the  English  people  who 
may  hear  him  will  know  that  he  came  from  across  the  Atlantic  ; 
and  we,  on  our  part,  seldom  mistake  an  Englishman  for  our  coun- 
tryman. It  is  in  the  tones  of  the  voice  and  the  methods  of  pro- 
nunciation that  the  differences  exist,  and  when  we  first  hear  Enor- 
lish  people  talking,  and  when  they  first  hear  us,  there  is  often,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  a  little  inclination  on  each  side  to  indulge  in  ridi- 
cule ;  but,  if  there  were  no  other  reason  for  refraining  from  such 
impoliteness,  we  should  do  so  because  it  stamps  us  as  ignorant 
people  who  have  not  travelled  much. 

Both  Americans  and  English,  like  all  patriotic  people,  believe 
their  respective  countries  to  be  the  best  in  the  world,  and  many  of 
them  consider  it  necessary,  when  they  are  travelling,  to  show  this. 
Persons  like  these,  however,  be  they  Americans  or  English,  do  not 
belong  to  the  better  class  of  travellers.  The  more  we  travel,  and 
the  more  we  see  of  other  nations,  the  better  we  become  acquainted 
with  their  merits  and  virtues.  Their  oddities  and  their  faults 
naturally  are  the  first  things  which  strike  our  attention  ;  but,  if  we 
have  seen  nothing  but  these,  it  is  a  proof,  either  that  we  have  not 
travelled  enough,  or  that  we  are  not  qualified  to  travel  with  advan- 
tage. The  more  the  right  kind  of  an  American  journeys,  the  more 
he  is  likely  to  be  satisfied  that  he  is  an  American  ;  but  the  better 
he  becomes  acquainted  with  other  nations,  and  learns  not  only  to 
avoid  their  faults  but  to  imitate  their  virtues,  the  greater  advantage 
is  he  to  his  own  country. 


2  28  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 

Next  to  our  own  fellow-countrymen,  I  think  we  shall  like  the 
English  better  than  an)-  other  travellers  we  meet.  Most  of  us 
may  remember  that  if  our  forefathers  had  not  chosen  to  emi- 
grate to  America  we  should  now  be  English  people  ourselves  ; 
and,  aside  from  any  feeling  of  kinship,  the  English  travellers  we 
meet,  and  in  whose  company  we  may  be  thrown,  are  likely,  after 
we  become  acquainted  with  them,  to  prove  very  good-natured  and 
pleasant  people.  As  a  rule,  they  are  very  w^ell  educated,  and 
speak  French  fluently,  and  often  German  ;  but  in  almost  every 
case  we  shall  find  them  lamentably  ignorant  about  America.  We 
who  have  studied  at  school  the  geography  and  history  of  England, 
and  know  just  how^  that  country  is  bounded,  and  what  are  its  prin- 
cipal rivers  and  towns,  besides  a  great  deal  about  its  peculiar 
manners  and  customs,  are  naturally  so  surprised  to  find  that  these 
w^ell-educated  English  people  know  so  little  about  America,  that 
we  may  be  excused  for  supposing  that  in  English  schools  there  are 
classes  where  ignorance  of  America  is  taught  to  the  pupils.  An 
English  lady  who  had  travelled  over  the  greater  part  of  Europe 
said  she  had  a  great  desire  to  come  to  America,  and  her  principal 
object  in  doing  so  was  to  shoot  Niagara.  I  rather  opened  my  eyes 
at  this,  and  said  that  I  thought  she  must  refer  to  the  celebrated 
trip  down  the  rapids  of  the  St.  Lawrence  ;  but  she  was  very  posi- 
tive on  the  subject,  and  said  she  meant  Niagara,  and  nothing  else  : 
she  had  understood  that  they  did  it  in  a  steamboat,  and  she  knew 
she  should  enjoy  the  sensation. 

A  well-educated  middle-aired  ofentleman  told  me  that  the  reason 
our  civil  war  lasted  so  long  was  that  we  had  no  military  men  in  our 
country,  and  that  a  war  carried  on  entirely  by  civilians  could  not 
proceed  very  rapidly.  If  any  of  you  have  ever  seen  an  English 
atlas  you  \\\\\  understand  why  it  is  difficult  to  get  from  it  a  good 
idea  of  America.     We  shall  find,  in  such  an  atlas,  full  and  complete 


THE  PEOPLE    WE  MEET.  229 

maps  of  every  European  country  and  principality,  a  whole  page 
being  sometimes  given  to  an  island,  or  to  a  colony  in  Asia  and 
Africa;  but  the  entire  United  States,  with  sometimes  the  whole 
of  North  America  besides,  is  crowded  into  a  single  map.  Some 
of  these  are  so  small  that  the  New  England  States  are  not  large 
enough  to  contain  their  names,  and  are  designated  by  figures  which 
refer  to  the  names  printed  in  an  open  part  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 
No  wonder  that  the  people  who  use  these  maps  have  a  limited  idea 
of  our  country. 

But  it  is  not  only  English  people  who  appear  to  know  very 
little  about  America.  A  German  countess  once  asked  me  if  we  had 
any  theatres  in  New  York  ;  and  when  I  told  her  that  there  were 
not  only  a  great  many  theatres  in  that  city,  but  that  it  possessed 
two  grand  opera-houses  at  which,  at  that  time,  two  of  the  leading 
prima  donnas  of  the  world  were  singing  on  the  same  nights,  she 
was  a  little  surprised.  It  is  quite  common  in  various  parts  of  the 
Continent  to  hear  people  speak  of  the  late  war  between  North  and 
South  America.  They  knew  that  the  war  was  between  the  North 
and  the  South,  and,  as  it  was  in  America,  the  mistake  is  natural 
enough  to  people  who  have  studied  only  European  geography. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  meet  with  many  travellers,  especially 
English,  who,  if  they  do  not  know  much  about  our  country,  are 
very  kindly  and  sociable,  and  glad  to  talk  about  American  things 
and  people  ;  and,  as  travel  is  greatly  increasing  across  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  it  will  not  be  long  before  the  people  of  the  two  continents 
learn  to  know  each  other  better. 

Some  of  the  Americans  who  visit  Europe  are  such  odd  person- 
ages that  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  they  give  the  people  they 
meet  a  queer  idea  of  our  nation.  Some  of  these  are  very  fond  of 
boasting  that  they  come  from  a  part  of  our  country  where  currants 
are  as  large  as  grapes,  grapes  as  big  as  plums,  plums  the  size  of 


230 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


peaches,  peaches  hke  melons,  melons  as  big  as  great  clothes-baskets, 
and  other  things  to  match.  Others  complain  if  they  cannot  have 
ice-water  and  griddle-cakes  in  every  European  city  they  visit  ; 
while  others  again  are  continually  growling  and  grumbling  because 
waiters  and  drivers  expect  small  fees,  not  considering  that  at  home 
they  not  only  pay  very  much  more  at  hotels,  and  for  carriage  hire, 
but  sometimes  are  expected  to  give  fees  which  are  ten  times  as 
much  as  the  poor  people  of  Europe  are  accustomed  to  receive.  I 
once  saw  an  American    girl,  whose   parents  had   become  very  rich 

since  her  education  had  been  finished,  who  was 
walkino-  throug^h  the  oralleries  of  the  Louvre. 
She  had  been  looking  at  some  pictures  by 
Rubens,  all  of  which  represented  the  Virgin 
Mary,  and  turning  to  a  companion  she  said  : 
"  I  do  believe  this  painter  must  have  been  a 
Catholic  !  " 

But  such  Americans  are  not  true  represen- 
tatives of  their  country,  and  it  is  very  certain 
that  Europe  contains  no  more  delightful  peo- 
ple than  many  of  our  countrymen  and  coun- 
trywomen with  whom  we  become  accpiainted 
abroad. 

The  English  people,  whom  we  may  visit  at 
their  homes,  are  very  kindly  and  hospitable,  and  give  us  a  welcome 
as  strong  and  honest  as  they  are  themselves.  Shopkeepers,  and 
tradesmen  of  all  sorts,  are  very  civil  and  obliging.  The  officials  on 
the  English  railways  are  peculiarly  pleasing  to  Americans,  who 
contrast  their  agreeable  and  efficient  way  of  taking  care  of  travel- 
lers with  the  manners  and  customs  of  many  of  our  railroad  clerks 
and  employees. 

In  France,  the  servants,  shopkeepers,  washer-women,  and  nearly 


AN     ENGLISH     RAILWAY 
OFFICIAL. 


THE  PEOPLE    WE  MEET. 


231 


everybody  who  may  serve  us  for  money  will  be  found  to  do 
what  they  have  to  do  in  a  very  kindly  and  obliging  way.  It  is  a 
pleasure  to  be  served  by  such  neat  maids  as  we  find  in  hotels  and 
"pensions,"  or  boarding-houses;  and  the  women  who  wait  on  us 
in  the  shops  always  greet  us  pleasantly,  and  show  a  kindly  interest 
in  helping  us  to  select  what  we  want.  Of  course  this  may  be 
attributed  to  a  desire  to  sell  as  much  as  possible,  but  this  is  a 
very  proper  desire  for  people  in  business  ;  and  if  they  endeavor  in 
this  civil  way  to  induce  one  to  buy,  it  is  far  better  than  the  rude 
and  importunate  manner  of  shopkeepers  in  some  other  parts  of  the 
world.  There  are  places,  particularly  in  Paris,  where  strangers 
will  be  dreadfully  cheated  if  they 


make  purchases  without  under- 
standing their  value,  but  people 
who  spend  their  money  without 
knowing  what  they  are  about 
must  expect  that. 

French  servants,  as  well  as 
those  of  Italy,  Switzerland,  and 
some  other  countries,  always 
salute  us  pleasantly  when  they 
enter  our  room,  and  are  often 
intelligent,  and  one  may  be  a 
little  sociable  with  them  with- 
out fearing  that  they  will  pre- 
sume upon  it ;  they  are  always 
ready  to  give  us  any  information  that  they  can,  and  if  they  can 
speak  even  a  little  English,  they  are  quick  to  let  us  know  it. 
Sometimes  their  courteous  manners  and  expressions  amuse  us,  as 
when  a  French  dressmaker  said  to  a  lady  who  had  expressed  satis- 
faction  with  her  work  :   "  Ah,  madame,  the  skies  smile  when  the 


FRENXH    BONNES    (NURSES)    AND    THEIR    CHARGES. 


23: 


PERSONALLy  CONDUCTED. 


gown  pleases  !"  One  of  the  most  polite  and  well-bred  personages 
with  whom  I  ever  had  conversation  kept  a  little  shop  in  the  Latin 
Quarter  of  Paris.  She  was  a  middle-aged  woman,  with  sunburned 
face  and  coarse  hands,  and  wore  a  blue  cotton  gown  and  a  plain 
cap,  I  frequently  went  into  her  shop,  and  though  I  often  bought 
nothing  more  than  a  two-cent  box  of  matches,  she  always  welcomed 
me  as  cordially  and  courteously  as  if  she  were   receiving  me  in  a 

fine  saloji  ;  and  if  she  had  not  what  I  wanted, 
would  put  herself  to  trouble  to  tell  me  where 
I  could  get  it ;  and,  when  I  went  away,  bade 
me  good-by  as  if  I  were  a  friend  of  her  family 
whom  she  hoped  to  see  again. 

It  is  particularly  noticeable  in  Continental 
shopkeepers,  and  persons  of  that  class,  that, 
although  they  are  very  civil,  it  is  seldom  that 
we  meet  with  the  servility  and  obsequiousness 
which  is  somewhat  common  amongf  the  Lon- 
don  tradespeople.  It  will  be  found,  also,  that 
although  the  English  servants  are  generally 
most  admirably  trained  and  efficient,  it  is  not 
so  advisable  to  speak  to  them  as  freely  as 
we  do  to  persons  in  like  positions  on  the  Con- 
tinent, for  the  British  waiters  or  maids  are  apt 
to  lose  respect  for  the  person  who  is  inclined 
--  to  be  in  any  degree  sociable  with  them. 

The  French  people,  especially  the  middle 
•^•^  and  lower  classes,  have  strong  family  ties;  and 
in  the  country,  when  the  sons  and  daughters 
marry,  they  generally  remain  in  tlie  old  home,  where  the  father  or 
grandfather  is  head  of  the  house  as  long  as  he  lives.  It  is  very 
pleasant    to  see    the   old    grandmothers    in    the    public    parks  and 


A    FRENCH    POLICEMAN. 


THE  PEOPLE    WE  MEET.  233 

gardens,  busily  knitting,  and  taking  care  of  the  little  grandchildren 
who  play  about  them.  The  French  people  have  faults  enough,  but 
many  of  these,  if  the  traveller  does  not  look  for  them,  are  not  apt 
to  trouble  him. 

In  Italy,  as  well  as  in  France,  we  often  find  a  pleasant  disposi- 
tion to  offer  service,  even  if  it  is  not  directly  paid  for.  I  was  once 
in  a  city  of  northern  Italy,  where  I  needed  some  articles  of  cloth- 
ing. Having  just  arrived  I  was  entirely  unacquainted  with  the 
place,  and  inquired  of  a  clerk  at  a  forwarding  or  express  office, 
where  I  had  some  business,  the  address  of  a  good  shop  where  I 
could  buy  what  I  wanted.  He  thereupon  put  on  his  hat  and  said 
he  would  go  with  me  to  one.  I  did  not  wish  him  to  put  himself  to 
so  much  trouble,  but  he  insisted  that  as  I  did  not  know  the  city  it 
would  be  much  better  for  him  to  accompany  me.  He  took  me  to 
the  best  place  in  town,  helped  me  in  my  selection,  made  sugges- 
tions to  the  shopkeeper,  and  when  I  had  finished  my  business, 
offered  to  go  with  me  to  buy  anything  else  I  might  want.  It  is 
possible  that  he  may  have  been  paid  for  bringing  purchasers  to 
this  shop,  but  the  price  I  paid  for  what  I  bought  was  so  small  that 
there  could  not  have  been  much  profit  to  anybody,  and  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  large  and  wealthy  firm  by  whom  this  young  man 
was  employed  would  allow  one  of  their  clerks  to  go  out  in  this 
way  merely  to  give  him  a  chance  to  make  a  little  money.  Let  any 
stranger  in  one  of  our  cities  enter  an  express  office  and  try  to  get 
one  of  the  clerks  to  go  with  him  to  a  tailor's  store  and  help  him  to 
select  a  suit  of  clothes,  and  when  he  has  made  known  his  desire, 
let  him  wait  and  see  what  happens  next. 

The  Italians  of  the  working-class  are  generally  very  industri- 
ous ;  for  the  poor  are  very  poor  indeed,  and  they  have  to  work 
hard  to  live.  Even  in  Naples,  where  idleness  and  beggary  used 
to  be   so  common,  the   people  have  very  much   improved  of  late 


234 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


years.  Italian  beggars,  however,  are  very  persistent,  and  stick  to 
a  stranger  like  a  bur,  until  they  get  something.  The  easiest  way 
of  ridding  ourselves  of  them  is  to  lay  in  a  supply  of  small  copper 
coins  (they  have  coins  here  which  are  equal  in  value  to  a  fifth  of  a 
cent,  although  these  are  not  often  met  with,  except  among  the 
very  poor),  and  when  a  beggar  receives  anything  he  usually  will 
go.  This  is  a  sort  of  toll  one  has  to  pay  on  the  roads  about  some 
of  the  cities  of  Italy,  and  a  stranger  must  generally  pay  it,  or  be 
very  much  annoyed.  Sometimes  a  miserable  old  beggar  with  a 
broken  back,  one  blind  eye,  one  arm  gone  and  the  other  one  with- 
ered, and  with,  apparently,  only  half  a  leg,  bounds  in  some  miracu- 
lous manner  beside  a  carriage  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  so,  until 
some  one  throws  him  a  copper.  Then  he  stops,  his  back  straight- 
ens itself,  one  arm  comes  back 
to  him  and  the  other  regains 
its  power,  his  legs  drop  out  to 
their  natural  length,  and  he 
walks  slowly  back  to  his  post 
by  the  roadside,  where,  the  mo- 
ment he  sees  another  carriage 
approaching,  all  his  infirmities 
again  seize  upon  him.  Chil- 
dren are  very  annoying  as  beg- 
gars, especially  in  the  south  of 
Italy  ;  for  half  a  dozen  of  them 
will  sometimes  cluster  around 
a  stranger,  imploring  him  to 
give  them  something.  An  artist  travelling  in  Italy  had  a  curious 
way  of  ridding  himself  of  these  youngsters.  He  carried  a  toy 
watch  which  was  a  little  out  of  order,  and  the  hands  of  which, 
when  it  was  wound  up,  would  go  round  with  a  buzz,  until  it  ran 


.^^ 


ITALIAN    BEGGARS. 


THE  PEOPLE    WE  MEET. 


235 


down.  He  would  fix  this  in  one  eye  like  an  eye-glass,  and  turn 
fiercely  upon  the  importunate  youngsters.  The  sight  of  this 
revolving  and  buzzing  eye  scared  the  little  rascals,  and  they 
fled  in  every  direction. 
They  thought  it  was  the 
"evil  eye,"  of  which  they 
are  very  much  afraid. 

There  is  not  much 
beo-crincT  in  and  about 
Rome.  Even  the  poor- 
est people  seem  too  dig- 
nified for  that  sort  of 
thine.       We    shall    meet 


FOLLOWING    THE   CARRIAGE. 


on  the  street,  however,  men,  women,  and  children  who  offer  all 
sorts  of  things  to  us  for  sale,  and  if  we  buy  any  of  these  articles, 
we  must  be  careful  or  we  may  pay  too  much  for  them.  Even  in 
respectable  shops,  Italians  generally  ask  strangers  more  for  their 
goods  than  they  are  worth,  and  it  is  necessary  to  bargain  a  good 
deal  if  we  want  to  get  things  at  proper  prices.  As  a  rule,  pur- 
chases can  be  made  at  a  very  moderate  rate  in  Italy  if  we  know 
how  to  buy. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  Italy  is  a  country  of  art,  not  only  in  her 
pictures,  statues,  and  architecture,  but  in  the  costumes  and  man- 
ners of  the  people.  They  are  very  fond  of  bright  colors  and  pretty 
effects,  and  even  when  they  hang  up  tomatoes  and  cabbages  in 
front  of  a  shop,  they  arrange  them  as  tastefully  as  if  they  were 
decorating  a  little  stage  for  an  exhibition. 

In  Switzerland  we  see  this  same  disposition  to  arrange  common 
things  in  a  tasteful  and  orderly  way  ;  and  although  the  Swiss  are 
not  so  artistic  as  the  Italians,  and  do  not  care  so  much  for  color, 
we  sometimes  find  the  winter's  wood   built   up  into  the  shape  of 


236 


PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


a  little  dome  or  pagoda,  and  even  the  smallest  piles  are  arranged 
as  symmetrically  and  evenly  as  if  they  were  never  to  be  moved. 
The  ears  of  corn,  which  we  often  see  hung  in  a  row  on  the  fronts 
of  houses,  are  carefully  arranged  with  regard  to  their  size,  and  hang 
in   as   regular  order  as   if  they  were   files   of   well-drilled  soldiers. 

The  Swiss  cottages,  although  they  are  much 
more  elaborately  decorated  with  carvings 
and  inscriptions  than  those  of  the  poor  peo- 
ple in  any  other  country,  would  not  be  pleas- 
ant places  for  any  of  us  to  occupy.  The 
cows  and  the  people  live  too  close  together. 
M  In  some  of  the  richest  parts  of  the  country, 
y  the  barn,  the  stables,  and  the  dwelling-house 
are  all  under  one  roof. 

In  our  various  travels  we  shall  doubt- 
less meet  with  a  great  many  Russians,  and, 
as  a  rule,  we  shall  find  them  very  intelligent 
people.  I  once  met  a  Russian  gentleman 
who  not  only  spoke  excellent  English,  but 
who  knew  more  about  American  politics  and 
our  affairs  in  general  than  could  be  reason- 
ably expected  of  any  one  who  had  never 
seen  our  country.  All  Russians,  however, 
AN  ITALIAN  MODEL  WAITING    Jq   uot    uudcrstand   US    so   well.     A   young 

FOR    AN   ENGAGEMENT.  1       1         r  r-M  •  1  i         •  f 

lady  trom  biberia,  who  was  very  desirous  oi 
hearing  about  America,  once  asked  me  if  it  were  true  that  peo- 
ple in  our  country  could  look  for  gold,  and,  when  they  had  found 
it,  could  have  it  for  their  own.  She  could  not  understand  why 
the  Government  did  not  require  them  to  deliver  it  up.  In 
Russia  people  cannot  go  about  digging  gold  and  silver  in  unin- 
habited mountains  and  plains  any  more  than   they  can  walk  into 


THE  PEOPLE   WE  MEET.  237 

houses  and  take  money  and  jewels  ;  and  she  thought  our  Govern- 
ment very  fooHsh  to  allow  anybody  who  chooses  to  go  into  the 
far  West,  and  dig  up  the  gold  and  silver  that  he  may  discover 
there.  She  had  no  idea  of  a  country  which  truly  belonged  to  its 
people. 

It  is  likely  that  in  Switzerland  we  shall  meet  with  a  greater 
variety  of  travellers  of  different  nations  than  in  any  other  country. 
Some  parts  of  this  land  of  lake  and  mountain  are  very  pleasant  in 
the  summer-time,  while  other  portions  are  agreeable  in  the  winter. 
The  living  here  is  also  very  good  and  cheap,  and  there  are  prob- 
ably more  hotels  and  boarding-houses  to  the  square  mile  than  in 
any  other  country.  At  a  hotel  where  I  once  stayed,  there  were 
English,  Irish,  Scotch,  Americans,  Spaniards,  Germans,  Austrians, 
Russians,  Swedes,  Dutch,  French,  and  a  family  from  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope.  I  once  met  with  a  Parsee  gentleman  who  had  trav- 
elled a  good  deal  in  Europe,  and  had  some  idea  of  visiting  America. 
He  had  heard  that  it  was  sometimes  very  cold  here,  and  asked  me 
how  we  heated  our  houses  ;  he  particularly  wanted  to  know  what 
kind  of  stoves  we  used.  When  I  told  him  that  these  were  gener- 
ally  intended  for  coal,  but  that  in  some  places  we  used  wood- 
stoves,  he  looked  a  little  troubled,  and  after  a  moment's  reflection 
asked  me  how  we  prevented  the  wood-stoves  from  burning  up  when 
a  fire  was  made  in  them. 

Mistakes  in  regard  to  the  meaning  of  expressions  in  English 
are  quite  common  among  Continental  Europeans.  A  Swiss  lady 
once  asked  me  if  American  women  took  much  interest  in  politics 
now  that  they  were  allowed  to  vote.  "  But  they  are  not  allowed 
to  vote,"  said  I.  She  looked  surprised.  "  Not  allowed  to  vote!" 
she  exclaimed.  "  What,  then,  is  the  meaning  of  the  Emancipation 
Act  of  which  we  have  heard  so  much  ?  "  When  I  assured  her  that 
this  celebrated  proclamation  merely  referred  to  negro  slaves,  and 


238  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


had  nothing  to  do  with  white  women,  she  said  she  thought  this  was 
a  very  queer  country. 

When  I  was  in  Antwerp  I  met  with  a  person  who  interested  me 
very  much.  I  was  in  the  picture  gallery,  and  had  walked  through 
a  long  line  of  rooms  to  the  last  apartment.  There  I  saw  upon 
an  easel  a  picture  nearly  finished,  which  was  a  copy  of  a  very 
fine  painting  upon  the  wall.  I  was  attracted  by  the  beauty  of  this 
copy,  which  seemed  to  me  as  well  painted  as  the  original  close  by 
it ;  and  I  was  just  going  away  when  I  saw  a  tall,  elderly  man  come 
into  the  room,  and  take  his  seat  upon  a  stool  in  front  of  the  easel. 
He  wore  large,  loose  slippers,  and,  to  my  astonishment,  the  first 
thing  he  did  was  to  kick  them  off.  Then  I  noticed  that  his  stock- 
ings were  cut  off  a  little  below  the  Instep,  leaving  his  toes  exposed. 
Leaning  back  on  his  stool,  he  lifted  his  two  long  and  active  legs, 
and  took  up  his  palette  and  maul-stick  with  his  left  foot,  putting 
his  great  toe  through  the  hole  in  the  palette,  just  as  an  ordinary 
artist  would  use  his  thumb.  Then  he  took  a  brush  between  the 
first  and  second  toes  of  his  right  foot,  and  touching  it  to  the  paint 
on  the  palette  he  began  to  work  upon  the  painting  on  the  easel. 
This  artist  had  no  arms,  having  been  born  without  them,  and  he 
had  painted  the  beautiful  picture  on  the  easel  with  his  toes.  It 
was  astonishing  to  see  him  leaning  back  with  upraised  legs,  and 
putting  the  delicate  lights  and  shades  into  the  eyes  of  the  portrait 
on  his  canvas  with  a  brush  held  between  his  toes.  He  has  long 
been  known  as  a  most  skilful  and  successful  painter  in  certain 
branches,  and  his  beautiful  work  is  not  only  interesting  in  itself, 
but  it  points  a  moral  which  we  can  each  think  out  for  ourselves. 

Wherever  we  go,  in  any  of  the  galleries  of  Europe,  we  find  art- 
ists copying  the  noted  and  famous  pictures,  sometimes  two  or  three 
of  them  at  work  copying  the  same  painting.  In  this  way  hundreds 
and  thousands  of  copies,  not  only  of  the  great  works  of  the  famous 


THE  PEOPLE    WE  MEET. 


239 


painters,  but  of  their  smaller  and  less  celebrated  pictures,  are  given 
to  the  world  ;  and,  in  many  cases,  these  copies  are  very  good,  and 
give  a  fair  idea  of  the  originals.  There  are  artists,  and  some  of 
them  gray-headed,  who  never  paint 
any  original  pictures,  and  make  their 
entire  living  by  copying  paintings  in 
the  public  galleries  of  Europe.  This 
copying  business,  however,  is  often 
a  great  annoyance  to  visitors.  Some- 
times a  person  takes  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  to  go  to  see  a  famous  picture, 
and  when  he  reaches  the  gallery  he 
finds  that  an  artist's  easel  and  can- 
vas is  set  up  before  it  in  such  a  way 
that  it  is  difficult  for  him  to  get  a 
good  view  of  it.  A  young  copyist 
in  the  "  Salon  Carre,"  the  room  in 
which  the  finest  pictures  in  the 
Louvre  are  collected,  conceived  the 
grand  idea  of  painting  the  whole 
room,  pictures,  people,  and  all  ;  and 
the  immense  canvas  which  he  set  up 
acted  as  a  drop-curtain,  so  far  as  a 
general  view  of  this  celebrated  hall 
was  concerned.  In  some  oralleries 
there  are  appointed  times  for  the 
artists,  and  other  times  for  the  public. 

It  is  very  natural  that  we  should  want  to  find  out  all  about  the 
people  we  meet  while  we  are  travelling  in  Europe,  but  we  shall 
soon  discover  that  many  of  them  are  equally  desirous  of  getting 
information  from  us.     This  is  because  we  are  Americans,  and  in 


COPYING    IN    THE    GALLERY. 


240  PERSONALLY  CONDUCTED. 


the  countries  we  have  visited — excepting,  perhaps,  France,  where 
the  people  have  but  little  desire  to  emigrate — America  is  consid- 
ered as  a  land,  not  very  good  to  live  in,  perhaps,  but  as  a  great 
place  to  make  money  ;  a  country  where  the  poorest  person  can 
go,  accumulate  wealth,  and  return  to  spend  it  in  his  own  delight- 
ful native  land.  I  remember  a  guide  who  took  me  through  the 
ruins  of  Pompeii  who  was  a  very  good  instance  of  this  tendency. 
He  spoke  good  English,  and  was  fond  of  conducting  Americans 
through  the  dead  little  city.  The  desire  of  his  heart  was  to  go 
some  day  to  America,  and  his  mind  was  so  full  of  this  idea  that  he 
cared  a  great  deal  more  to  ask  us  about  things  over  here  than  to 
tell  us  about  Pompeii.  It  was  rather  funny  to  see  him  sit  down  in 
the  Temple  of  Isis,  and  to  hear  him  talk  about  General  Grant  and 
the  poet  Longfellow,  and  other  famous  Americans  whom  he  had 
served  as  guide.  If  some  Europeans  in  a  higher  rank  of  life  were 
as  anxious  to  correctly  inform  themselves  about  things  American  as 
was  this  man,  I  think  it  would  be  well  for  them,  and  well  for  us. 


THE    END. 


STOCKTON'S    POPULAR    BOOKS 


FOR     the:    young. 


The  Story  of  Viteau. 

WITH  16  FULL-PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY   R.  B.   BIRCH, 

Ojie  volume,  i2mo,  extra  doth,      ----__. 


^1.^0. 


"The  story  is  a  mediaeval  romance  in  France,  of  the  time  of  Louis  IX,  a  story  of 
castles,  knights,  robbers  and  surprising  frays,  that  has  all  the  charm  of  chivalric  color, 
and  is  a  good  picture  of  that  dangerous  and  fascinating  society,  while  it  is  full  of  a  sort 
of  modern  humor,  or  way  of  looking  at  romance,  that  is  altogether  delightful.  An  added 
charm  to  the  young  knights  and  maidens  who  figure  in  it  is  given  by  the  very  graceful 
and  attractive  illustrations,  which  are  uncommonly  good  and  spirited.  The  sprightly 
story  will  thoroughly  entertain  old  as  well  as  young  readers." — Hartford  Courant. 


SIR   HTGO   AND  SIR  CHARLES   CHARGE  THE   ROBBERS. 


' '//  is  as  romantic  and  absorbing  as  any  boy  could  -wish  for,  full  of  adventure  and  daring, 
and  yet  told  in  excellent  spirit  and  ivith  a  true  literary  instinct  ivhich  prevents  exaggeration  and 
extravagance.  The  illustrations  by  Mr.  Birch  add  much  to  the  attractiveness  of  the  book." — 
Christian  Union. 


"  The  story  is  entertaining  and  exciting  in  a  good 
wholesome  way." — Boston  Advertiser. 

"  The  imaetnation  of  young  readers  cannot  fail  to 
be  fascinated." — Philadelphia.  Bulletin. 

"It  is  an  entertaining  story;  most  boys  will  call  it 
fascinating,  and  it  is  as  well  a  good  and  wholesome 
one." — Springfield  Jiepuilican, 


"  A  most  entertaining  storj'." — Philadelphia  Tele- 
graph. 

"The  book  is  a  mediaeval  historical  romance,  full  of 
the  dangers  of  the  camp,  court,  highway  and  forest, 
and  is  marked  by  imagination  and  unfailing  vivacity. 
The  judicious  buyers  of  juvenile  works  will  give  it  a 
welcome." — Cincinnati  Commercial  Gazette 


STOCKTON'S  TOPULA1{  BOOKS  FOTi  THE  YOUNG 


A  JOLLY  FELLOWSHIP. 

"W  ith  Twenty  Illustrations  hj  Bensell,  Kelly  and  others. 

One  l^olume,  i2mo,       ---------        ^i.^o. 

"  It  is  the  record,  recited  by  the  elder,  of 
the  travels  of  two  boys,  aged  respectively 
sixteen  and  fourteen,  through  the  South  and 
the  Bahamas.  The  addition  of  a  bright 
young  girl  to  the  party,  with  a  hint  of  chap- 
eronage  in  the  person  of  an  erratically  sensi- 
ble mother  and  an  eccentric  father,  lends  in- 
terest and  piquancy  to  the  adventures,  which 
are  not  too  improbable." — I'/ie  Nation. 

"  Mr.  Stockton  tells  a  story  of  adventure  not 
only  with  a  peculiar 
simplicity,  seriousness 
and  verisimilitude 
which  endear  him  to  all 
young  readers  but  with 
a  vein  of  humor  all  his 
own  which  no  boy  can 
fail  to  appreciate.  In 
this    book   he   narrates 

the  travels  and  accidents  of  two  lads  and  a  young  girl  who  visit 
Savannah  and  Florida,  and  Nassau,  and  end  their  voyage  by  going 
adrift  on  a  raft  from  a  burning  steamer  and  being  rescued  by  a 
Russian  bark.  The  story  is  told  with  delightful  spirit,  and  is  hand- 
somely illustrated." — Nezv  York  Tribune, 

"We  can  think  of  no  book  published  the  present  season  which 
will  more  delight  the  wide-awake,  adventure-loving  boy.  It  is,  to 
borrow  the  adjective  from  the  title,  just  'jolly,'  and  as  pure  and 
healthful  as  it  is  jolly." — Boston  Transcript. 


THE    FLOATING    PRINCE 


And  other  Fairy  Tales. 


VJith  illustrations  by  Dcnsell  and  others. 


One  Vol.,  square  8vo,  $1.50. 


'We  have  in  this  children's  book  a  great  many  fanciful  stories 
conceived  in  an  especially  happy  manner.  The 
illustrations  arc  superlatively  good." — New  Yoik 
Times. 


SSsKffiffc- 


m- 


THB   GIANT  AND   HIS  ARMY, 


"  These  tales  arc  full  of  the  quaintest  conceits 
and  the  oddest  fancies,  and  the  strange  adventures 
in  which  the  different  characters  engage  are  of  just 
the  kind  to  excite  the  intense  interest  of  children." 
— Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

"Mr.  Stockton  possesses  the  arts  of  the  literary 
magician  in  harmonious  combination  and  high 
degree.  lie  has  originality  of  conception,  a  rich 
fancy,  artistic  sense  of  proportion,  the  quaintest 
grotesqueness  and  perfect  simplicity  of  style.  The 
illustrations  in  'The  Floating  Prince'  are  admir- 
able."— Ne70  York  Tribune, 


STOCKTONS  POPULATi  'BOOKS  FOTi  THE  YOUNG 

THE  TING-A-LING  TALES. 


WITH    NUMEROUS   ILLUSTRATIONS,   BY    E.    BEN3ELL. 


One  Volume,   i2mo, 

"It will  delight  the  hearts  of  younj,'  readers  every- 
where."— Boston  Transcript. 

"An  absurdly  comical  story  about  dwarfs,  fairies 
and  giants  which  will  interest  the  children." — X.  Y. 
Com  mere  ial  A  dvertiscr. 

'  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  anything  more  dainty, 
fanciful  and  humorous  than  these  talcs  of  magic, 
fairies,  dwarfs  and  giants.   There  is  a  vein  of  satire  in 


^l.OO. 


them  too  which  adult  readers  will  enjoy.  Numerous 
little  sketches  are  scattered  through  the  pages,  and 
they  point  the  author's  meaning  with  great  clever- 
ness."—.\-.  ] '.  Herald. 

'Altogether,  if  children  laugh  over  this  book  half  as 
heartily  as  some  grown  people  we  know  have  laughed, 
they  are  to  be  envied   their  good   time." — Worcester 

Spy. 


PROCESSION    OF   THE   WHITE   ELEPHANT, 
>    ♦    • • 


"  Both  books  are  full  of  humor,  fancy  and  instructive." — ^^V.   Y,  Evening  Post. 


ROUNDABOUT  RAMBLES  IN  LANDS  OF  FACT  AND  FICTION. 

WITH  TWO   HUNDRED  ILLUSTRATIONS.      ONE  VOLUME,  SQUARE  8vo,  $1.50. 


TALES  OUT  OF  SCHOOL. 

WITH   NEARLY  TWO  HUNDRED  ILLUSTRATIONS.       ONE  VOLUME,  SQUARE    8vo,  $1.50. 


"  They  are  bright,  instructive  tales,  devoid  of  harm 
and  calculated  to  enliven  many  a  winter  evening  and 
school  holiday." — Springfield  Republican. 

"  The  volumes  are  profusely  illustrated  and  con- 
tain the  most  entertaining  sketches  in  Mr.  Stockton's 
most  entertaining  mSLnner." — Christian  Union. 

"  They  are  fully  illustrated.  Both  are  made  up  of 
u  great  number  of  sketches,  adventures,  incidents  and 


wonderful  histories  told  in  a  most  interesting  manner." 
— Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"These  two  books,  of  similar  appearance,  with 
handsomely  illuminated  covers,  contain  incidents  of 
travel  and  adventure,  and  are  profusely  illustrated. 
The  matter  is  well  selected  and  written  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  be  readily  understood  by  young  people." — 
N,  Y.  Tijnes. 


SCRIBNBR'S  HOOKS  FOT^  THE  YOUNG. 


tre  merry 

ADVENtaRES  OF  R0BIN  HOOB. 

Of  Great   Renown  in   Nottinghamshire. 

WRITTEN   AND    ILLUSTRATED    BY 

HOWARD  PYLE. 


One  volume,  quarto,  full  embossed  leather,  $4.^0  ;  cloth. 


^^.00 


In  this  book,  uiuioubtedly  the  most  original  and  elaborate  ever  produced  by  an  American 
artist.  Mr.  I'yle  has  gathered  irom  the  old  ballads  and  legends,  und  lold  with  pencil  and  pen,  he 
Complete  and  consecutive  story  of  Robin  Hood  and  his  merry  men  in  their  haunts  in  Sherwood 
forest.  There  is  something  thoroughly  Eiiglsh  and  home  bred  in  these  episodes  in  the  life  of 
the  bold  ouil.ivv.  His  sunny,  open-air  nature,  his  matchless  skill  at  archery,  his  generous  dispo- 
sition, his  love  of  fair  plav,  and  his  ever-present  courtesy  to  women,  form  a  picture  that  has  no 
counterpart  in  the  folk-lore  of  any  other  people. 


•'  Mr.  Pyle  h.is  taken  the  most  characteristic  of  these  old  ballads,  and  has  turned  them  into 
his  own  fresh,  simple,  idiomatic  prose,  and  has  illustrated  them  as  no  other  man  in  America 
could  have  done." — Nt-w  York  Mail  and  Express. 


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